


Honey I'm Home

by KurlozKandySkull



Category: Homestuck
Genre: :o), F/F, Ghost Sex, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, POV Dave Strider, POV John Egbert, POV Multiple, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, So many tags, bad bad things to come, more tags i dunno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KurlozKandySkull/pseuds/KurlozKandySkull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life, like love, is fleeting. Its both begins and ends with mass struggle, and while everything in between can be hard, it can be beautiful too... No matter what happens, no matter what may keep us apart, I know we'll be able to come home at the end of the day and say... Honey, I'm home. (Has POV shifts, so multiple pairings! May be a bit OOC, but it's worth it, give it a chance!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New House Smell

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name, if you haven't already seen it, is Kurloz! I'm new to AO3, but I assure you I am not a novice when it comes to writing. I can provide a nice plot, sweet love stories, and the most profound tragedy, if only you give me the chance. Please, it's important for anyone interested to know now, that English is not my first language! I grew up speaking Spanish, so if there are misconceptions or typos scattered about.. well, I'm sorry in advanced. I mostly (only) write Homestuck, and if you actually clicked on this story then you won't mind. Also note that many tagged pairings come later on in the story, and there will be frequent pov shifts. Please remember to give a kudo, add to favorites, and follow or whatever this site does! Comments, however, are the most appreciated, since It makes me so happy to see what you guys think. So sorry for my rant, now on with the show!

**Chapter One** : **Prologue..?** _New House Smell_

 

People frequently sigh in content over the smell of a new car, finding it to be industrial and perfect. I, on the other hand, prefer the smell of a new house more than any other, even if it has been previously owned. I set my bags down by the door, ignoring my father's complaints as socked feet led me to the kitchen. I could see my goofy reflection in the spotless marble countertops, my nose catching a whiff of lemon scented disinfectant.

With a small 'hmph' and a satisfying knock to the solid counter, I moved along, tanned hands ghosting along stainless steel appliances. There was a sturdy looking oven fastened to the wall, tucked beneath an impressive window, which gave me a nice view of the Kelly green grass. It was late spring, and I had been homeschooled for half of the year in order to cope with the hectic moving schedule.

Despite my addiction to computer programming and sweet, sweet Nick Cage, I somehow found it within myself to complete my work diligently, if not insanely early, and was able to enjoy my summer vacation two months early. The late May afternoon looked inviting, with a large yellow sun bleaching the robin egg toned sky as it took its perch above the road, seated between two neighboring houses.

Dad startled me when he plopped a brown paper bag on the counter, keys flying off to god knows where as he reached for his favorite ingredient. Betty Crocker Cake Mix.

I wouldn't say that my dad had a cake addiction, no, he had more of a cake lifestyle, baking needless pastries for no apparent reason. Sometimes, just to escape my scrutinizing gaze or my abrupt abscond, he'd make up excuses, fake celebrations. As of late, his witty remarks have degraded to 'It's somebody's birthday somewhere, my son', and he'd crinkled that big, majestic nose of his and roll up crisp white sleeves as he put his groceries away.

This occasion was no different, and my dad politely requested that I put away the eggs, so that they can be in the best condition by the time he is ready to bake. Before I was even able to locate the plastic yellow container, the oven was already set to preheat.

Letting out a soft sigh, I rolled my cerulean eyes behind thick lensed glasses, pulling open the fridge to release a cold gust of air. Huh, how odd... I set the eggs in the middle shelf, directly above the meat crisper, and grabbed a small bottle of apple juice that had been hanging out on the door's shelf. There was a crappy drawing of an apple. IT had a bite taken out of it to resemble a smile, and black lines for eyes, legs, and arms. The drawing was shit, but it was better than anything I could do, so I found it cute.

I set it back where I had found it, an odd part of me not wanting to get rid of the random unclaimed grocery. Once the milk, bacon, and other delicious food-stuffs were set into the refrigerator, I silently snuck away from my father, collecting my bags and trekking upstairs to my bedroom. My father had already informed me as to where my room would be, stating that It had already been furnished before we had arrived, and that all it needed was some sprucing up, and some more lively décor.

I tossed my bags (two rather seedy looking duffle bags.. like the ones nick cage kept pictures of his wife and Casey in when he played the iconic role of Cameron in Con Air...) onto the nude mattress, unzipping them with a finesse that I had all but mastered over the years. The first thing I pulled out were my movie posters, and I smiled warmly at Matthew McConaughey 's soft blue eyes. Oh Matt, even your sappy romance stories make me smile..

I arranged all of my posters in a half circle on my bed, and decided to hand them randomly about my room, starting with Bill Cosby. I set him on the wall in front of my bed, so that when I woke up in the morning I'd be greeted by the ideal fatherly figure. Don't get me wrong, I loved my own dad very much, but...

Wherever my hand hit on the wall was where I would place the next poster. Finally, after several hard wall slaps, I finished by hanging my Nick Cage poster over my bed, so that he may bless my dreams with daring action and sweet one liners. I then pulled the bed away from the wall, reaching into my second duffel bag to retrieve the weird, scrunchy bed sheet thing, which took me a full thirty minutes to successfully encase my mattress in. I then set a generic white sheet on top of the bed to alleviate stress from the scrunchy one, and then decorated the whole thing with a plane white pillow and my old ghost blanket. I loved that old thing.. it smelt like home.

When the bed was all decorated, I pushed it back against the wall, nestled to the right of the door, near the window. Nick Cage stared down at me with placid approval, and I grinned back, quickly emptying various prankster accessories into my magic chest before hooking up assorted cables to my computer. There, now I could finally use the old thing... well... later, when I was done decorating.

I quickly emptied my bags of any shirts I hadn't put away earlier, stuffing them in my dresser along with all of my other clothing, taking no care in a particular order, just... shoving it all in there. I put my CDs in their stand, which stood regally beside my desk, and then made my way over to the closet, so that I could put my Colonel Sassacre's Daunting Text book away where it would be safe. I saw plenty of warm winter coats, jackets, hats, and shoes, and coincidentally there was no floor space for the book in sight. I glances up, to the unnecessarily high shelf, only to notice that there were boxes there.

I frowned, squinting to get a better look at the unfamiliar name written there.

 

property of dave strider, dont break this shit its fragile

 

Dave Strider...? I was fairly certain I didn't know anyone by that name, or surname, for that matter. I made room for my book inside of my magic chest, finding no immediate urge to discard the mystery boxes. Instead, I would pilfer through them and steal any of the sweet loot abandoned by what I assumed to be the previous house owner.

I weaseled my way in between my magic chest and the wall, pushing it until it had budged from its original spot and then dragging it with all my might to the center of the room. With my energy and will fading fast, scrawny nerd muscles crying for help, and computer becoming with a voice like silk, I nearly considered giving up. But when my eyes caught sight of the brown boxes, my interest was piqued once more, and the slight rush of endorphins and adrenaline allowed me to drag the star spangled chest to the closet, where I stood atop in so that I could remove the boxes safely.

The first one was surprisingly light, and as I passed my hand through it I felt microfibers and felt cloth, taking the form of... well I guess I'd have to see to find out. I got off of the chest so that I could place the rather dusty box on my bed, before resisting temptation long enough to retrieve the other box from the elevated shelf. The second one was larger in girth and height, and had a lot more weight as well. This one was the box that held to warning not to break this shit, and even though the owner wasn't here to scold me for any mishaps, I forced myself to be as carefully as humanly possible, taking slow and well planned steps as I transported the supposedly fragile contents to my bed.

I began with the smaller box first, blowing the dust off of the box and then covering my nose and mouth, waiting for the particles to disperse as to not trigger my asthma. Luckily, I had no adverse reactions to the dust concentration, and I peered inside.

Stuffed animals. The box was filled with an odd array of stuffed animals with round, squishy bottoms and rather phallic noses. How... charming..? I cleared the plushies out of the way, jumping slightly when a squeak emerged from a neon pink one's belly as its nose hit my wall. Underneath the stuffed animals I discovered an old Xbox 360, which kind of excited me, despite all of the bad reviews I had seen on the internet. What the hell, it's a free Xbox, even if it overheated and dyed on me, I wouldn't have paid for it to begin with. I smirked at the console, moving it onto my bed and finding chords, games, and controllers hidden beneath it. Score..!

I packed everything back into the box in a neat and orderly fashion, setting it on the ground and then pushing it under my bed, so that my father wouldn't see it for a while, therefore wouldn't ask me any questions.

There's nothing worse than playing twenty questions with a man that tries to feed you cake between each syllable.

In the second box, which I had to rip tape off of to open, was a complex turn table system, with knobs and lights and switches I didn't even believe were necessary. I blew the dust off of the two records that perched in the middle of the buttonic chaos, sneezing when it all flew up towards my watering eyes and stuffed nose. Crap.. the allergies were really starting to get to me..

I reached out a dark hand to touch the device, the forbidden object just begging to me messed with. The records felt smooth, yet grooved, beneath my fingerti-

"Hey, who the hell are you, and what do you think you're doing with my turntables?"

I turned abruptly, blood running cold in my veins, to see a blonde haired cool kid floating a mere inch from my face.


	2. Stale Apple Juice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is a summary for every chapter really necessary? I find it more appropriate to let you guys figure it out on your own. It makes it feel a tad bit more real, don't you agree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments, is my never-ending mantra for attention.

**Chapter Two** : **Chapter one...?** _Stale Apple juice_

 

I backed up, the back of my legs hitting my mattress, making me fall down on a rather sturdy stuffed animal. This one happened to be a florescent orange.

I moved the offensive and rather lewd, if I were being completely honest here, plushie, tossing it aside as if it had scalded me. The blonde boy hovering in front of me kept a rather preserved looking poker face, yet by the twitching of his fingers I could tell he was borderline irate.

He took a step forwards, and I could see that his feet were donned with bright red socks. I peered at them closely, and had to blink multiple times when I thought I spotted the grain of the wooden floors through his foot. I was distracted by an uninterested sounding groan, the boy almost gliding over the floor, as if he weren't even touching the ground in the first place.

"What are you even doing with any of my shit? I specifically labeled my crap, dude! What are you even doing in this fucking house? The last time I checked, breaking and entering is illegal!" He shouted, although he still maintained that 'too cool to really give a crap' attitude.

I gaped at him, gaze flickering between the boy and the boxes, settling with a noncommittal shrug after pondering over appropriate answer choices.

He groaned again, a pale hand traveling to silky platinum blonde hair. A freckled nose crinkled at the bridge, and settling upon that nose was a pair of round aviator sunglasses.

"Don't tell me you guys actually bought this lame old house?" He questioned, red sleeved arms crossing over a slim chest.

His lips were pulled in tight, like he was holding back a rather nasty comment. I could see a dark eyebrow arch over his shades, and curiously enough, it did not make me question the legitimacy of his light hair color.

"Yeah, I'm afraid we did. And it's not a lame house, its huge and wonderful! I even get my own room, and it's-"

"Just like every other house in this shitty ass neighborhood?"

I frowned at the blonde boy, crossing my dark arms over my sturdier chest and eying him up and down.

He didn't even flinch.

I felt dangerously close to telling him off, or losing my temper, when I caught sight of my Bill Cosby poster through his pale face. All of my original curiosity masked over any normal human reactions (e.g "What the fuck are you doing here, I'm calling the cops"), and I jumped up, face edging daringly close to his. The boy backed up, tripping over his own feet and nearly falling over... but...

He was floating... Where the boy had lost his balance, he was now floating, feet poised precariously in the air, as his shirt lifted just barely, showing off a freckled expanse of pale, translucent skin. Flustered, the boy situated himself back on the ground, poker face cracking just slightly, yet long enough for me to see his uncertainty.

"No fricken way" I muttered, large front teeth grazing over my lower lip when I broke out into a grin.

All these years of worshipping Ghost Busters like some weirdo cultist.. and finally, finally... I get to see a real life ghost! Honestly, at this point I was a bit worried for my mental sanity. Any normal person would have driven to the hospital to get a psych check, or called the police, or at the very least called downstairs for their father, but me..?

I just stood there, gawking like an idiot. I held out my hand, ready to offer it to shake, but overestimating the difference between us. My hand passed through the boy's stomach, and he jumped, nearly backing into the wall in an attempt to get away.

"Don't do that shit man, it's totally not cool." He muttered between grit teeth, waving away my courtesies. "And don't shake hands, or whatever that is. It's so unironically uncool that I almost want to puke. The name's Dave, Dave Strider, and I'd appreciate it if you would pack up all of my treasures and place them back on the shelf where they were."

I was so taken aback by his words and cadence that I followed his orders, packing the plushies back into their box and stepping back onto my magic chest, slipping them back onto the annoying high shelf before going to retrieve the box containing the turn tables. Oh, so badly had I wanted to see what was underneath them..

I let out a little sigh, hoisting the box up with the help of my knee, stepping onto the chest in a rehearsed fashion, and using my little arm strength to push it back into its proper place. There, as if nothing had even happened in the first place. Maybe if i tossed an old sheet up there, the evidence would be gone, hidden at the very least..

Well, all evidence save for the actual boy himself. Why now, of all times, am I seeing him? Maybe he died in some horribly tragic way, like a suicide, or a murder? I turned around and stepped off of my chest, half assedly dragging the heavy rock of a thing back to its spot, sitting atop it and glancing at Dave who was hovering applesauce style over my bed.

I immediately crossed suicide off of my list of possible deaths. No, this boy seemed far too confident and sure of himself to die in such a... I presume cowardly, way. But murder...? I could see that cocky attitude easily putting Dave on somebody's bad side, but then again... he was just a child, like me. Would somebody actually be that cruel, to murder a child in his own home..?

If this even was his home... he seemed to harbor some sort of animosity towards the house, almost as if he didn't like being stuck in the place. Almost like-

"Dude, I can tell you have a question on your mind. You look constipated and it is very unappealing. Spill already."

I frowned, arching a thick eyebrow over my cerulean eyes.

"First off, my name is John. John Egbert, not 'dude', and I assure you, I am very pleasant to look at!"

Ugh, he rolled his eyes under those glasses, I could just feel it!

I continued, as if I hadn't been bothered.

"How did you-"

"Die? That's a simple one, I don't remember."

"Are you-"

"Yeah I'm sure, stop talking about it. Move onto the next question,"

Alright... so I guess that was a rough topic for him. I reminded myself to add that to my Ectobiology Notebook, and the thought of my journal made my skin crawl with excitement.

I couldn't wait to ask more questions! Like if he remembered his fa-

..Huh... What was he...? Was that my...?

I'd ask him as soon as he stopped fucking with my computer.


	3. Jello Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing I'm giving away just yet. :o)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is that while future plot points may seem a bit far fetched, they have all happened in my life one way or another. Keep an open mind please? And thank you for reading.

**Chapter three : Chapter two..?** _Jello Legs_

I glanced at Dave, brow furrowed over the dark rim of my glasses as I watched him mess with my computer. A pale hand stuck its way into the screen, making the whole thing break out into static and warping colors. The device proceeded to turn on, and open the pester chum application.

I stood, quietly padding over to the mysterious boy and contemplating his mysterious ways.

Absently, I moved to set a hand on his back, only for my fingers to slip through him, immersed in a cold that made my arm throb and sent tingles down my spine. I snapped my hand back, wiping the tips of my now numb fingers against my white t shirt as Dave jumped back.

He let out a frustrated groan, wiping the back of his shirt awkwardly, as if I had wiped a sneeze on him.

"Hands off, Egderp!" He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest in that ever so stoic fashion, porcelain mask slipping back onto his face... well, in a metaphorical sort of way.

"Egderp? Really? You act so tough and cool but the best insult you can make is Egderp?" I questioned, and at this rate I was sure my eyebrow would be perpetually arched over a pair of rolling blue eyes.

The blonde haired boy sighed, crossing his legs and falling back, laying suspended in the middle of the room. I may have been wrong, but I took this as an opportunity to study him. If only my Ectobiologist lab suit was in my closet instead of hung up at the dry cleaners... Crushing disappointments aside, I laced my fingers together behind my back, feigning innocence long enough to sneak over to my ghostly acquaintance.

He didn't seem to appreciate my little act, and even went as far as to make a snarky comment about my talent in that specific skill area. I just sighed at him, for around the hundredth time in the approximate half hour since I had met him.

"Well, if half a lifetime of worshiping Ghostbusters has taught me anything, I'd bet you were a poltergeist!" I began, only to be rewarded with an exasperated sigh and a crinkled nose. "I'd even venture out and say that we'll be seeing a lot of one another now, so we might as well try to get on good terms."

I could almost see the cogs start to turn in his semi translucent head. I scoffed at the mental image, estimating that besides the gears he probably had dust and hot air... like a vast land of heat and clockwork.

"Fine.. I guess we can call a temporary truce or some shit.." He grumbled, sitting- er, I mean floating- right side up and offering his hand palm up as a sign of allegiance.

I smiled a big, buck toothed grin, moving to pass my hand through his.

Much to my disappointment, slight mirth, and great annoyance, he pulled his hand away last second, and an odd thoughtful sound escaped his pursed lips.

"Wait, one thing first, John" he began, a smirk pulling at his mouth as slight dimples creased his freckled face. "I'll only agree to this lame as hell truce if you agree to never compare me to a shitty Ghostbusters ghost again."

"But-" I opened my mouth to protest, my jaw jutting out slightly in defiance.

Dave easily stalled my interjection, waving a finger in my face and tsking at me like a disappointed mother.

"Agree to it, Ectobioloshit"

I decided to overlook the insult in exchange for the newfound trust, nodding with an obvious pout plastered to my tanned face.

"Good boy" Dave commented snidely, a chuckle bubbling up behind those words, threatening to break free from his mouth at any second.

I pretended to not be disappointed when he cleared his voice instead, biting at my lower lip and averting my gaze to the window instead. Oh, would you look at that... a perfect, supple tree branch, just outside the house, just waiting for a tire swing...

"Hey, you wanted so badly to prod at me earlier, why the sudden coyness, John..?" The blonde nearly purred, walking backwards with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark skinny jeans.

I felt my gaze shift to him again, and I blew air up into my nose, listening to the wind current echo in my nostrils.

"Is this your house?" I blurted suddenly, and Dave seemed taken aback, face shrouded in placid shock for a mere second before slipping back into that shit eating grin again.

"No" he replied, examining the cuticles on his left hand in mock boredom. "I wouldn't say this is my house... my bro said I was a 'growing boy' with a 'future' and I needed the space to develop this 'big brain of mine'. What a load of bull... We do nothing but fight each other and decides to get mushy on me the second he wants an upgrade? No thank you, I don't need this shitty house, our apartment was fine enough."

I didn't want to go out on a limb, but he sounded a bit bitter. I decided to press onwards anyways, like the little sneak I was.

"So, tell me about your brother. You fought?" I ended my sentence with more of an accusation in my tone than I had meant.

Dave set his hand on his knee and glared at me from behind his shades, clearly offended.

"Yeah we fought, but he didn't fucking abuse me, if that's what you're thinking. All we do is take some shitty swords up to the roof and whack each other around a bit. He always told me that I needed to get stronger. Pfft, as if! I'm the strongest guy out there, and he knows that!"

I arched my eyebrow again, finding the action rather soothing after using the expression so much in such a short period of time.

I opened my mouth to question the legitimacy of his statement, words nearly tumbling out when I was interrupted. Not by Dave, but by my father, who bellowed up from the kitchen.

"SON, WHO ARE YOU YAKKING TO UP THERE?"

I blanched, rushing to my computer to turn it on, only to remember that Dave had already done so earlier. I clicked on the chumhandle of one of my dear friends, just in case my father came up to check on me, and yelled back my reply.

"I'M TALKING WITH ROSE, DAD! SHE TOLD ME TO TELL YOU HELLO!"

I heard a hearty chuckle from the kitchen, and the sound of the electric mixer turning on. I suppose we were having cake for dinner again... oh well...

I sighed, turning around in my wheelie chair, only to spot Dave staring at me, a bit too close for comfort, with his mouth agape and his right eyebrow twitching over the lens of his shades.

"Wait, you know a Rose..? What's her last name? How old is she?!"

His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, and I saw a crack form at the corner of his perfectly crafted mask.


	4. Rose Petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absence makes the heart grow fonder. The less I reveal here, the more curious you'll be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have any of you seen the movie 'Just Like Heaven'?

**Chapter Four : Chapter Three...?** _Rose Petals_

 

I shot the sorry dork my best glare, although all he could see above my shades were my dark blonde eyebrows, which were angled down into a deep furrow.

He knew my sister. I could see it right there on his computer screen, flashing in yellow and pink as she replied to his message. TentacleTherapist, my overly analytical, nosey, yet precious twin sister.

"How do you know her?" I questioned, raw emotions ready to explode from my mouth, my eyes, my skin... I held them all deep inside, capping up the pressure and running a ghostly hand through my pale hair.

I played this act well, being so cool that I could be mistaken as the most premium of cucumbers.

"She's my friend, Dave, chill out for a second!"

I did not want to chill out for a second. I saw something I wanted, my darling sister, and I would not wait any longer to speak with her. It had already been so long... I've lost track of the time. I peered over John's shoulder at the screen, watching as he clicked upon Rose's chumhandle with the same level of leisure that a snail maintains,  reviewing her brief inquiries before typing a reply.

 

EB: pviugb l;;wscu

TT: John? May I ask why you interrupted my freestyle writing session with, which made up word should I entertain... gobbledygook?

EB: oh, sorry rose

EB: my dad was wondering who i was talking too, so i sort of.. started up a conversation to cover my own ass ??

EB: i dont know, it doesnt seem like hes coming up here, so i guess it worked

 

There was a brief pause, and Egbert dragged the PesterChum application to the corner, leaning up close to his computer screen and...

Wait what the fuck? Was this guy seriously checking out his teeth in the reflection of a neon tinted Slimer? Is that even what the fat fuck of a ghost was even called? I wasn't entirely sure, but the sudden overload of lame in my poor, under cultured brain made my world spin. Somebody call the ambulance, I'm going into culture shock. Note the lack of exclamation for lack of enthusiasm and/or giving a shit.

PesterChum started flashing and calling John's attention like a needy whore, and he answered it's cat call greedily, dragging the window back into the center of his screen.

 

TT: Oh? Well, I would inquire further into your situation if I could, but I assume you are keeping that a secret as of now?

EB: wait what ??

EB: oh you mean who i was talking to ?

 

Egbert turned in his chair, the wheels screeching in a way that made my skin crawl. If my body was actually affected by anything I felt, both internally and externally, then the hair would have risen on the back of my neck. Blue eyes flickered to where I stood, and he glanced at me thoughtfully, a question written on his features.

I had no fucking clue what that question was, and I was too stubborn to ask. I didn't want to get school fed anything by a kid who's not even mentally mature enough to stop wearing Ghostbusters underwear. Get your head out of the gutter, people, I don't watch him change or anything gross like that, I saw his geeky collection when he unloaded his shit into my closet.

Well... fine, maybe I peeked once or twice.

The Egbert kid frowned at me, large front teeth worrying at chapped lips, dark brows furrowing momentarily before he turned back to his conversation.

 

EB: no, actually, i think i might want to tell you about this one

TT: Oh, how wonderful, if not unexpected. Come, sit yourself down on the couch as I retrieve a fresh pad of paper.

EB: wait, didnt mean to get your hopes up rose, but theres nothing wrong

EB: ive just got a new... friend ???

TT: Who may this new friend be, John? Is it anyone with whom I have made acquaintance?

EB: i wouldnt think so

TT: Oh? And why not?

EB: oh, well

EB: its just that hes this really awesome ghost and stuff

EB: im not sure how long hes actually been here though. what do you know about it ? youre into all of that paranormal lore and what was it

EB: zoologically dubious ??

TT: Well. John, are you absolutely sure that the entity you have viewed is or a paranormal nature?

EB: uh, yes ?? i havent been watching ghostbusters for nothing, rose. i know a ghost when i see one

 

I tried not to wince at his shitty reference, my arms now infinitively crossed over my thin chest.

"John, what did I tell you about the shitty ghost references?" I asked, a warning lacing the undertones of my voice.

I received nothing but a muttered apology and a dismissive wave.

 

TT: Please describe any aspects of the subject at hand that may have alerted you to the possibility of him being a paranormal entity.

TT: You hinted in a previous message that the entity in question is male, am I wrong?

EB: no your right rose !

 

Egbert turned in his chair again, blue eyes trailing up and down my ghostly form.

"Take a picture, Egderp, it'll last longer" I said with fake indifference, shrugging my shoulders and holding them in their raised stance for added affect.

The raven haired boy turned back to his computer in silence, fingers skittering over the keyboard with no regards to grammar. Ah, who am I kidding, my own typing is almost as shitty as his.

 

EB: hes a little orange

TT: Are you implying that he is a legitimate, small scaled orange, or are you saying his pigment is the color orange.?

 

I could see John roll his eyes in the bit or his desktop that was showing. I wanted to pounce on him, yell at him, something! My plans were cut short when the very girl I wished to defend wrote once more.

 

TT: Never mind, the answer to that question was pretty obvious. I was being a bit obtuse there, wasn't I?

EB: no, its alright

EB: other than the orange thing, he pretty much looks like a normal kid

EB: and the orange isnt even that intense !! i can still tell what his regular colors would be, like his hair or his shirt and what not

TT: Oh? And what colors might those be?

EB: well hes got blonde hair for starters. id say it was pale like yours, and hes got really pale skin too. maybe thats because hes dead ?? i should ask later

TT: How about his eyes? In my book I've read that the deceased do not have irises or pupils when they are stuck in the afterlife or any place between.

EB: i havent seen them, sorry

EB: hes got on these stupid triangle shades and i cant see past them

TT: Could you ask him to remove them?

 

Egbert turned to me, mouth open to speak. I shook my head before the stupid words could even tumble into existence.

 

EB: no, he downright refused me rose

TT: Wait, John, lets backtrack for a second. Did you say something about triangle glasses? Just what do they look like?

EB: well .. theyre just stupid pointy shades. they are probably from a stupid anime or something, i dont really want to ask

TT: John, please this is more important then you know. What is this ghosts name?

 

He almost told her. His fingers were poised over the letter keys of my name, almost really to press down what fatherly knuckles rapped on the door to the bedroom.

"Son! I've made a late lunch for you. Please come downstairs so we can eat as a family." Dad Egbert requested politely.

Family time..? I remember family time with my bro... we used to eat Macaroni and cheese out of old Elmo cups while we watched old reruns of Here Comes Honey BooBoo...

A sigh threatened to escape my lips as I watched John typed a hurried goodbye to Rose, signing out of his PesterChum and putting his computer into sleep mode.

I listened as his father's footsteps faded away, and then watched blankly as John hurried after him, opening his door up wide and yet telling me not to step outside.

I was tempted, let me tell you... but I already knew that no matter what John told me, I wouldn't be able to leave anyways. I've already tried, multiple times and in multiple ways, to leave these god forsaken room, and the closest I've ever gotten was an extended peek out of an open door.

So I waited idly, floating aimlessly around the room, passing through random electronics and furniture items, attempting desperately to hold something, make something real. Unfortunately, I could do nothing of the sort, at least not as far as I could tell. Maybe I could learn...? UGH, who was I fucking kidding? Yet again, another simple task was out of my reach.

It just wasn't fair... I'm a Strider, I know I'm supposed to be strong, and confident, and the master of all things ironic, but... it was all fake and I had to stop fooling myself at some point. I was lonely, my only new friend after countless months being a dork who I wanted to hate so badly, but found myself amused by. I found myself coming dangerously close to breaking, sad over my death without even remembering how it happened.

I probably died of something fucking stupid, for all I know. I couldn't just have a noble or badass death, no. With my shitty luck I would have died by frying myself with a hair dryer. How's that for irony?

I sighed heavily, laying down on (or hovering directly over) the floor and staring up at the plain white ceiling. I watched the fan turn round and round, one of the chords used for turning on the lights twinkling against the light bulb casings themselves as the wind rustled them. It was like a quaint fucking wind chime. If I could just close my eyes, I could smell the fresh outdoors, the beautiful tweet of a fledgling blue jay..

Tch, who even needs that shit? I've got my turn tables, my Xbox, some killer games... all of which I couldn't touch, but hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Or was that even the proper phrase for this situation..? Ah, fuck it, I honestly didn't care enough to second guess the accuracy of my ironic quips.

I found my mind wandering to my phone, and its whereabouts. I had that stupid thing around here somewhere... if only I could find it, I'd be able to talk to my sister my damn self. Unfortunately, out of boredom I stashed it away in some random bit of furniture, and for the life of me (or maybe the death or me?) I could not figure out where it was.

I snickered as a sudden thought crossed through my head. Maybe, just maybe, if I played my cards right, I could convince John to find my phone.

Maybe if I told him there was a secret ghost loot, or a phantom treasure or some shit... The dweeb would probably be all over that shit, searching through every pillow, every mattress, every drawer for my fucking iPhone. It seemed kind of cute, actually, now that I actually sit down and thi-

Oh hell no, the ectobiolodouche was NOT cute, by any means. I squashed that roach before it could even skitter back into the dark, turning onto my side and pouting at the wall parallel to me.

I saw the outlet under the desk, all electronics in that area having been attached to an extension cord, therefore freeing up some space in the second outlet. I didn't want to bother myself with menial thoughts, like which electronic could occupy that outlet that would be of any god damn use in this dorky ass room. Hmph... not that it even mattered or anything, or not even that I was really thinking too hard into this shit, but... Xbox, that simple.

I considered brining the idea up with John when he returned.

All I had to do for now was wait.

And wait...

Like I haven't already been waiting for this kid for months..

Hurry up, Egbert.


	5. Remember To Stride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see if we can break past 3000 this time! It'll only get shorter from here... 4000 a chapter seems a bit extreme...

**Chapter 5: Chapter 4...?** _Remember to Stride_

 

There's nothing I hate more than falling asleep. Sure, when you're alive, you're missing out on all the cool shit you could be doing, like mixing an ill beat, watching some Mac and Cheese microwave in your favorite Sesame Street receptacle, or even developing a sweet secret language with your brother consisting of nothing but beat boxing sounds and strained whoops. But when you're living, you have your spirit to escape to. Your dreams, in a way, are protective little bubbles.

While you are still living, you create new memories in these bubbles, most of them verging on fantastical and totally sick in an ironic sense. For instance, back when I was a small, innocent little shit, I used to have these crazy dreams where I was a crow, and I would just perch there in the heat of the downtown city streets and watch myself bumble around and solve puzzles. It was weird, I'll admit, but at least I experienced something new every time I went to sleep.

Now...?

I gripped the hilt of my shitty swords, the fake leather peeling where it wrapped tightly around frail metal. I wiped some sweat from my brow, pushing my bangs away from my moist forehead with a bleeding hand. My brow knelt down close to the floor, legs parted in his usual battle stance, a hand suspended in the air, beckoning, taunting. I saw his left leg buckle, a flaw in his planning that was barely noticeable, but that made all the difference in the world.

His battle style was unique, yet so very annoying. It was hit or miss, and around ninety percent of the time he hit me dead on, my small, battered body skidding against the concrete roof. But in these moments, when he aggravated an old injury and showed me his weakness, I was able to use his own hits against him.

Bro lunged at me, his own shitty sword angled and pointed for my chest. When he put his weight on his good knee, I twisted to the side, ducking below his arm and swiftly kicking out the injured one. He stumbled, but before he could flash step away I grabbed his ankle, pulling it back so that he would fall flat on his face. I kicked his weapon away from him, and sat down on his back, the flat of my blade pressing against his pale, smooth neck.

"Gotcha Bro! Now you've got to let me play Marth in Smash Bros for the next week and a half!"

My brother growled, but I could sense the playful tone in his voice.

"Fine, lil' man, didn't want that frilly little princess anyways."

"Come on, Bro, we both know he has the best combos."

"He's got that killer ass too."

"You better believe it!"

Bro pushed himself up to his knees in a sudden, brisk manner, and I grabbed onto him the way a Koala clutches the native foliage during a nap. I fisted a bloody hand against his black tank top, my legs circling around his waist as he shakily stood.

"Aw shit, lil' man... I didn't cut your hand too bad, did I? You've got comics to write this summer!"

This summer... oh, I remember this...

You see, if I'd just get back the point, when you're dead nothing new happens in your dreams. Your subconscious is pretty much what you actually are, so you don't have your spirit to fall back on in your dreams. You just relive old memories as if they are happening anew, well that is, until you realize you're asleep, and you wake up.

My brother slipped out of my vision as he turned his head, smooth freckled face broken with a stupid little grin and topaz irises barely visible at this angle, despite his protective shades.

Its moments like this, when I wake up falling, that I wish I had said I loved him more often.

He had raised me to be strong, to shield my emotions, but to protect me from what? He had never told me why he was so guarded, and sometimes it worried me.

As I woke up to find myself sprawled on John's floor, I took some time to just... remember.

I remember those nights... the times when all of that stoic behavior got to my brother, and he'd sit down on the kitchen floor when he thought I was asleep, and... well, he'd cry.

It was totally odd, to see him shedding  tears not for the sake of irony, but because he remembered something horrible.

I'd ask him what was wrong, but he'd just wipe away his tears as if they were shameful, and shake his head at me.

It was those times when he really seemed to turn back the clock. All of the stress would be written on his face but it would only make him look younger, more vulnerable, more scared.

"Dirk..." I'd begin, but I never had the courage to actually tell him I loved him.

He'd just look up at me, with those dark bags contrasting against his melanin deficient skin, and he'd beckon me closer. I'd oblige, and he'd hug me, gently shaking and shuddering against my smaller frame.

As much as it helped, seeing my brother break down like a normal human being, those moments scared me. My bro was hurting, and I couldn't do anything to stop the ache.

I sighed, standing a mere inch from the ground and hovering over to John's door. I pressed a ghostly ear to the white wood and tried to hear past the barrier, but couldn't. I slumped down to the ground again, and let my thoughts drift.

The most information I ever got out of my brother was when he was sick with the flu, bundled up in a Rainbow Dash bathrobe, orange boxer briefs, and old Dora the Explorer bed sheets. We had old reruns of Keeping Up With the Kardashians on, and despite the enthralling melodrama Dirk seemed to do nothing but drift off.

Being the little shit I was, I pestered him.

"Why are you so sad, Bro?" Okay.. so maybe it was less of a pester and more of a direct question.

Sometimes, despite historical evidence to support otherwise, irony was not the right way to go about things.

"M'not sad, Davey..." He murmured, and I recognized his flaw.

He only called me Davey when one of us was about to cry. I sat next to his head on the couch, fluffing his pillow like an underpaid maid.

"Dude, don't lie to me. Feelings jam. Now. Spill it."

And he just went and told me. He didn't say everything, but he said enough to kick dirt right on my feelsancreas. (What, you don't know what that is? The feelsancreas, just to clarify before you get lost, is the small, imaginary organ behind your heart, more towards the spine than any specific lung. When something saddening happens, the organ spasms, and those who are overly cynical or passive unfortunately have to have theirs removed.)

He started off by recapping what he had admitted on my twelfth birthday. I, despite what he had told me, was neither his biological brother nor his child in any way shape or form. My mother was really his best friend Roxy, and my twin sister was really Rose, my best, but rather droning, friend. He then went on to tell me new, yet not really significant information.

Supposedly, Rose and I were born extremely late. Roxy's belly was swollen and she had multiple contractions, yet at the nine month mark she did not have her babies. Bro told me that he had gotten nervous, since Roxy's friend had gotten pregnant around the same time, and her babies had already been born. Well, they had been premature, but were stable and would grow up healthily.

An unnatural amount of time went by, and the doctors got nervous. Just before they were about to suggest emergency surgery, Roxy gave birth just before Christmas. Rose had been healthy as can be, but despite my extra time in the womb.. I... guess I was still underdeveloped. Bro told me that he wanted me to be strong, so that I'd never be as frail as I had been for the first few months of my life, stuck in the intensive care unit until I developed enough to even be fed my mother's milk.

I asked him why I had been given to him, and Bro coughed a wheezy little cough, resting hand over his light sensitive eyes.

"Roxy never stayed with the man who got her pregnant, and he said he wanted nothing to do with the kids. She had always wanted a little girl, and when I showed so much excitement about the potential Rose, she said she'd give me the second kid if you were twins. Nobody believed it would happen, but when it did.. Roxy was confident I'd be a good guardian.. she wasn't really ready for one child, let alone two."

"And why do you cry at night in the kitchen?"

Bro didn't answer me, so I pulled his hand away from his tangerine eyes, taking off my own shades to show him I was serious. I narrowed my crimson eyes and frowned, dark blonde eyebrows furrowing above my features.

"Why do we barely say I love you? Why can't we ever cry without being ashamed? Why do you go working at the club every Saturday but never once bring back a special somebody? I know your hours, and you never seem to spend any extra time out. What'd the deal, Dirk?"

There was a long, drawn out sigh. There always was, with Dirk. Even when he was willingly giving information, there was always this hesitance.. not as if he didn't trust me, but almost as if he was afraid he'd be weak if he admitted what was troubling him.

"It's been sixteen years since it ended, and it still feels like I'm cheating..." Was all he said.

I had tried to press on for more information, I really had, but he just shook his head, adjusting his ensemble of ironic comfort-wear and raising the volume on the television to drown out my voice.

There was nothing I really wanted to remember, aside from that... I'd gladly go into the details of my own death, just to pass the god damn time, but I couldn't even remember past the sound of my window being shattered.

So I passed the time by doing exactly what I and been doing before I had fallen asleep, rolling just above the ground and waiting. OHHH, how I hated waiting... I wasn't an entitled guy by any means, but sitting around and waiting when there was shit to do, people to mess with... it got a bit tedious. Moments like these,  when you really have nothing other than your own damn self to keep company, I really feel like Time's little bitch. I'm a precious knight of time, following his maiden whilst donning a full suit of bright red armor. It's sweltering under all these layers... but I've got nothing to do but serve, and all the fucking time to do it.

"EGGGGGBEEEEERRRRT! My darling heir, save me from this tower and shower me in riches! I'm a golden headed princess, just waiting to be rescued and promptly ravished on the nearest quest bed!" I moaned out, voice not so much yearning but desperate for freedom.

Sort of like... the blessed love child of an Eagle and Whitney Houston. But orange.

The door slammed open near the end of my thought process, and I didn't even have time to prevent myself from jumping up.

"Shit dude, what the fuck? Chill out Egderp, your face gets any redder and it'll be an overripe tomato."

Egbert looked ticked off. His derpy looking teeth bit down roughly on his lower lip, and his brow was furrowed deeply over angry blue eyes. His glasses were askew and his face was flushed and sweaty, almost as if he had darted from the other side of the house the second he heard me yelling.

"Dave what the FUCK?! You're lucky my dad was enthralled with our Ghostbusters movie marathon, or else he would have heard you yelling like a banshee up in here!" he nearly spat.

Ohhh, so John's got some bark to him... I couldn't help but wonder if he'd bite.

"There's no way he would have heard me. Thus far, it seems like you're the only ass that can see, hear, or communicate me. Congrats Egderp, you're really something else."

"You're just a stupid pile of Ghost shit!"

"Ectobiolo-twit"

"Orange peel!"

"Special Snowflake"

His nose crinkled up at that one, the anger leaving his face in exchange for a confused stupor and mild amusement.

"Special Snowflake? Really?"

I covered the little smile on my face with my hand, pretending to wipe under my freckled nose.

"Hey, don't do that. When people see a smile it makes them feel more... I dunno, real. Try to open up a bit. We won't get anywhere if you stay stone cold forever."

I dropped my guard, my crimson stare softening behind my shades. I want to drop my hand down to my side, only for John to preemptively reach out and...

He moved my hand.

When his fingers came into contact with my flesh, they didn't pass through this time. The skin where his thumb pressed into heated up, almost like I was on fire, and the orange began to melt away, revealing pale alabaster skin beneath. I twitched the muscles in my arm and pulled away, nearly hissing at John.

He just stared at me with wide, blue eyes.

"What was that?! Dave did I just touch you?!"

He reached out to try and do it again, but this time I was on the defensive. I stiffened every muscle in my body, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end when his swiped his dark hand at my arm.

This time it passed right through, and when I shuddered at the heat flash, John shivered at the sudden cold chill.

"Dave, c'mon, loosen up a bit. What if you-" John began, eye alight with curiosity and adventure.

"No, John. That felt wrong in so many ways, just... don't try that shit again..." I nearly spat, eyes narrowed behind my glasses as I gingerly poked at the raw flesh of my wrist.

The skin there had abruptly turned orange, yet it was much more translucent then it had been before. I almost looked... .real.. in that spot...

I shut myself down before I could let any childish emotions flood over me. I was cool, I was unbothered, I was the epitome of irony. I did not, by any means, need to be getting excited over something so.. so stupid!

"Jesus man, I feel like I need to take my rape shower now... Hey, stop laughing! That's not funny, man.. It felt wrong on so many levels!"

The little jerk was laughing! He had the gall to laugh at the one and only, the brave, the dashing, Dave Strider.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" He wheezed out, clutching his belly (which I noticed had an ever so slight amount of pudge on it), and squeezing his eyes shut behind his glasses. "You looked like I had wiped my jizz on your shoulder!"

I pulled a face, my brow furrowed and my nose scrunched up and wrinkled. My mouth was agape, my minuscule smile lines aggravated with mild disgust.

"There it is! That's the face! Oh, gracious, I wish I could take a picture of that face!"

I crossed my arms over my chest, nose upturned and eyebrows risen in a haughty fashion at his blundering antics.

"You done yet, Egderp?" I asked smoothly, my features evening out as I pretended to examine my nails.

I was really staring at John out of the corner of my eye, but he couldn't see that, since my shades were protectively mirrored on the outside. All he would see would be his own stupid little face.

I snickered at the thought, desperately attempting to transform it into a cough at the last second.

"Let me study you" John proposed suddenly, and when I looked up at him I found him a mere two inches from my face.

I let out a peeved little noise, backing up slightly before answering with as much sarcasm as possible.

"Hmm... sure! I'm totally going to let the teenager with the Slimer underpants probe me for answers!"

"How do you know about that?!"

"Cause you totally didn't just sprawl out your delicates on my bed when you moved your nerdy ass in here."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit there is, Dave."

"At least I still have more wit than you, Egderp!"

"You use the same name every time! Think of something different, Carrot Cake!"

"Shove a sock in it, Nutter butter!"

"Danny Phantom!"

"Zoosmell Pooplord!"

"Insufferable prick!"

Oh GOOOD I hated these stupid back and forths! I put an end to this idiocy and groaned angrily, right up in John's face.  John groaned back, and soon we were having a contest to see who could shout the loudest without Dad Egbert kicking down the door out of sheer worry. Yeah... lets just say I totally lost my cool on that one. Totally out of character for me, I know.. but something about this kid infuriated me... It took me totally out of my comfort zone, in a majorly unironic way. The more I screamed at him... The more my voice rose.. The more I actually wanted to be his friend.

Sounds dumb, I know, but when I stomped my feet around and shrieked like an injured crow, he gave me this dumb little look... a stupid little smirk that reminded me of myself.

And.. I just wanted to make myself happy.

"Truce! Truce, alright! I'm done, lay me down and study my smooth, adolescent orange body all you want, I really, really, could not care less about your unironic obsession with dead things."

What? So what, I like dead things too! I wasn't gunna... try to bond with him over it or anything...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There ya go.. Comment and Kudo please!


	6. His Accent Was As Cockney As His Eyes Were Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So sorry about the all caps yelling in the last chapter.. there's a bit of a story about that, and let's just say it wasn't me who put that in there. I'd like to include some more about these little real life moments, but.... comment and tell me what you guys think. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you so much for your comments, kudos, and support! Also, should next chapter be in John or Dave's POV? I've got something planned either way, but I live for feedback.

**Chapter 6 : Chapter 5...?** _His Accent Was as Cockney as His Eyes Were Green_

 

His hands were soft... softer than anything I could remember, or anything I had forgotten. I looked down at our hands, which were interlaced at our fingers. I held my breath, forgetting for a moment that I had no real need to. Colors danced on ivory skin, cream tones fighting for dominance over mellowed orange hues.

John's skin was dark and hot against mine, and I bit roughly on my inner cheek, brow furrowed.

After our truce, John had paced around wordlessly, before dismissing himself and rejoining his father for the rest of their Ghostbusters binge. I waited patiently, for that was all I really could do anymore. At around eleven he rejoined me, and when he opened the door I could see that all of the hallway lights were off. His father had probably gone off to bed, or to the study.

We had both sat down on his bed, him slumped against the headboard and me lightly hovering above his ghost sheets. The silence had gotten comfortable, and I found myself staring, fiery crimson eyes trailing over his form behind the security of my shades. He moved after a while, and I caught the motion instantly, sitting up just a little bit straighter.

"I want to try something with you, if you wouldn't mind.." He said quietly, blue eyes large and barely illuminated by his desk lamp.

It was almost like watching those ASMR videos on YouTube.. his hands gently dragged against the sheets, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. I was absolutely mesmerized, and nodded without really thinking it through.

Those hand had reached out to mine, we touched, and that's where we are now.

I felt myself lower down, my ass pressing against his sheets and my face chilled by the slight wind of his ceiling fan. I could feel it... I could feel everything as if I was actually there. I had a gravity and a presence that I had only been able to experience in dreams!

I got excited, and felt my heart skip a beat in my chest, face flushing happily with warmth. I smiled at John, before I could even stop myself, and let go of his hand to hug him.

And just like that, it was all gone. The ringing of my shuddering heart died out in my ears, and my skin turned from clammy to frozen. Alabaster hues turned white, then blue, and then orange again, as my weight sent me sinking through John's bed onto the floor below.

How wonderful, I could slip through a bed just fine but when it came to leaving this god damn room I was trapped.

I spent a moment hidden in his bed, my head spinning uncomfortably as my hopes dashed away, kicking up dust and making my mind cloudy.

"Dave... Dave you felt so real.." He whispered, probably not meaning for me to actually hear.

I swallowed, pushing myself up and then floating back up to John, just my head and shoulders exposed above his sheets.

"Dave, I could feel a pulse in your hands and everything! Your cheeks were all red and your skin wasn't even orange! And...."

I steeled my expression, making it a blank canvas in which to paint on false security. Until I was done building up the walls that Egbert had knocked over like he was playing Jenga, I would use denial. Just deny and deny and deny anything he was saying. I've had enough false hope in my life, I didn't want him ruining any facade I decide to uphold.

"John, don't fool yourself. You're just trying to fuel your own ghost obsessed mind, and I'm not gunna have it. I don't know what you are trying to imply, but I'm a GHOST, John. I can't feel, I can't be warm, I can't have a heartbeat, and I shouldn't be... be..."

"Melting back into life like a water color portrait?"

"Sure, whatever the hell that means. Stop trying to make me part of some weird theory or science project. I may not be real but I'm a person too, you ass." I didn't mean it when I called him an ass, and I think he saw through my mask as well.

"It happened Dave, whether you want to face the facts or not. What if... there's something more? Then you being dead, I mean. Rose used to go on and on about this sort of stuff. She told me that sometimes, when the body undergoes a lot of physical or emotional distress, then the spirit can lag behind. How did you die, Dave? Did you even really die at all?"

I shot up, eyes narrowed behind my shades as I closed the small gap between me and John. I jut out a finger towards his face, almost as if to make a point.

"Don't you dare bring my sister into this! She's been through enough as it is. I know it may seem like she's fascinated by death and the unironicly dubious 'demons around us', but she's had enough death in these past few months to last her a lifetime, and I don't need you bringing up and sore subjects with her!"

I knew Rose was strong, but there was something inside me that wanted nothing more than to protect her. She'd probably hit me upside the head with a leather bound book if she found out, though.

John looked at me with an odd expression, face scrunched up not out of fear or regret, but out of confusion.

"What's with the face, John? Oh, sorry, forgot to mention that her cat Jaspers died." I said slowly, eyebrow arched high above the brim of my shades.

"Wait, Dave.. Rose is your sister?!"

My raised hand dropped down to my side, the other lifting itself to my forehead with a loud smack. I had wanted to forgo telling John this information for a reason. I was such a dumbass sometimes, not even ironically either.

"Uh, yeah? Does it matter?"

John nodded, his glasses shifting and becoming cockeyed upon his snub little nose.

"Yes it matters, Dave! How do I not know you, me and Rose are like... best internet chums!"

I sighed, and John hopped off of his bead, scurrying to his computer and pulling out his chair so he could sit down. The monitor turned on from its sleep mode, and he instantly opened up the PesterChum application.  I scratched at the back of my head uselessly, stalling myself a moment or two before I got up to join him, hovering behind his chair and looming over his shoulder.

EctoBiologist began to pester TentacleTherapist at 11:35, but she did not end up responding, despite her online status.

 

EB: rose

EB: rose

EB: oh my gosh rose you wouldn't believe what i just found out

EB: err... i mean, who i just met

EB: its your brother

EB: do you know a dave strider? ive been talking with him all day, even if he is a bit infuriating and hard to read

 

I lightly huffed, a small noise of disapproval escaping lips that were thinned into a tight frown. John didn't make any moves to delete or even edit the rude statement, and he wouldn't have even gotten the chance, since his father knocked on the door a mere second or two after the ravenette hit the enter key.

"John, may I come in?" He asked politely, voice bubbling with fatherly undertones, and laced with a slight accent that I couldn't quite place at the moment.

John went to speak, but when he opened his mouth his voice cracked so badly that I could barely suppress my laughter. My bespectacled peer cleared his throat and tried again, simultaneously speaking and turning off his monitor.

"Uh, sure dad..! Wait a second though..." John glanced around the room, eyes settling on me for a moment before he sighed, lifting himself out of his chair and plopping down on his bed. "You can come in now!"

The door opened, and a tired yet friendly looking face appeared from the hall. A dark hand reached out to fondle the wall, flicking on the room's main lights and illuminating both himself and John. He didn't even glance at me, so I knew he couldn't see me. John's dad walked in and closed the door behind him with careful hands before making his way to his son.

He sat on the edge of the bed, facing towards me in silence, but focused on his son. A silence drifted between them, so thick with possibility that I could almost reach out and grab it, if I had been able to see it. Finally, after a little sigh, John's dad spoke.

"John... I just wanted to say thank you, for joining your old man today for a good classic. I do fancy movies, I really, really do." He trailed off thoughtfully, running a hand through his onyx hair.

I was actually surprised to see him without his hat on. Usually, since he was always donning his trusty white fedora, I wouldn't even bother to look him over on the off chance that he'd step inside. But now..? John's dad looked a bit.. different than I had expected him to appear. His hair wasn't cut particularly short, although it was trimmed neatly in the back, and it had a messy quality similar to that of John's. His skin was dark, too, just like John, but.. his eyes were different. While John's eyes were a bright sky blue, his fathers were the closest thing to emerald I had ever seen.

They were entrancing.. almost as if I had seen them before.. My heart wanted to say that he had been at my apartment once, but I quickly dismissed the idea.

"Well... that's it son, give your old Dad a hug and then I'll adventure over to my room for the night."

John looked bashful, embarrassed almost. It was probably because I was here, and this realization brought an evil little smirk to my face.

I watched the two embrace lovingly, and John's dad left the room with a little wave, his green robe swishing behind him as he left the room. As he left I could have sworn I heard him complain about missing glasses, but I pushed aside the thought so that I could smirk at my dear, dear friend.

"So. That's quite a father you've got there, Johnny boy.."

"Shut up, Dave!"

His dark skin was flushed red, and I clutched my stomach with the force of my laugh.

"What accent even was that? Your dad from England or some shit?"

John could manage to do nothing more than sputter like a fish out of water, and I leered at him, floating around him as my chuckles died down to a comfortable silence.

At least when he was embarrassed he couldn't bother me about ghostly shit.

"Dave, I have half a mind to call my dad back in here. He used to know Ms. Lalonde extremely well, and I bet you he'd drive right over if I told him her precious son was dead."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Bite me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo so sorry for the suckiness of this chapter.. I just got started with rehabilitation, and my back's killing me... I'd go on, but I don't know if you guys care about my personal problems. They actually tie in with the story extremely well, so if you guys are curious then leave a comment saying so...? I'm so needy, sorry... :o)


	7. Car Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Find out for yourselves, my dear viewers~~!! Sorry for typos.. The author was nearly out of it and I'm not a great Beta... at all... :B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry to say this, but the author of the story is out of state at the moment for medical reasons, and will not be able to update the story. Since they (has the author even told you anything about themselves yet? I'm just dying to spew information!) will not be able to check up on this story, they have written several chapters in advanced, so that I, their doting other half, may upload it for them. I'm really not good at this sort of thing, and I apologize in advance if anything seems to get all wopperjog when it comes to the formatting. The author hopes you enjoy the chapter, and they hope that they can be back soon to see all of your comment and likes or whatever this website uses. The comments are really appreciated though, I cannot stress this enough. Also, the author has a tumblr, if anyone wants to ask a question or commission some Homestuck fan art, he will be happy to do so for you! I, unfortunately, have no talent in that area, so I can't draw, but I can certainly answer questions regarding the plot or characters, since.. well, the majority of the story is based off of mine and the author's lives. The name of the tumblr will be in the notes below, please enjoy!! ~ Jay  
> A/N: There's a really horrible tingling in my spine and I can barely even think... sorry for the sucky chapter, they'll get better I promise.

**Chapter 7 : Chapter 6...?** _Car Pool_

 

I wasn't kidding when I told Dave that I was going to tell my father. In no way did I mean to be childish, or be the classic tattle tale in a children's book, but I felt like he needed to know. If Dave was somehow Rose's sister, then my father would have had to know about him! Supposedly, my dad has known Ms. Lalonde for quite some time now, since he himself was my age. He told me about their adventures together, about how he, she, and two other friends that he never seemed to delve into would all meet up and get into all sorts of 'dilly-dallying' and even 'rough-house' or get into 'fisticuffs. Hell, this Lalonde was even a major part of the reason he decided to move to this town!

If they were really as close of friends as he told me, then he'd want to know about Dave. So despite Dave's bargaining and a few vain attempts at ironic threats, I stood up and went to my door. I knew Dave couldn't leave, so there was nothing he could really do to stop me.

"John, seriously, don't you even dare! Don't fuck things up for me, just drop it! Yo, are you even listening?" He rambled, words stressed and contrasting with his nonchalant expression. "You're PesterChum is nagging you! Maybe its Rose, John! You wouldn't want to ignore her, right? Right..?"

I sighed, turning back momentarily and catching his unguarded expression. His lower lip was darkened from nervous biting, and he sucked it into his mouth every once in a while. In the few seconds that it took him before he noticed my stare, I was able to see his dark blonde brow furrow and relax.

As soon as his shaded eyes caught my gaze, he slipped back into his usual emotionless demeanor.

"Fine, go off and tell him. It's not like I even give a shit.." He murmured, acting like a rebelling child more than anything.

I scoffed at him when he wasn't paying attention, opening the door to my bedroom and stepping outside into the hallway. But.. when I was met with the dark environment, and glanced back at the ajar door, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty. I sighed and looked down at my dark hands, which were nervously wringing my white Slimer shirt.

I could still feel it... the tingling sensation..

When our hands had connected, It wasn't just a touch, it was more of a sensory explosion. My head danced with so many spectacular visions and emotions that it still left me feeling confused. I could still see his face, clear in my mind. His skin was so pale, yet his multitude of freckles dusting over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose betrayed the fact that he spent a lot of time out in the sun. His hair was so pale of a blonde that it nearly looked snowy, but it glistened with a certain sheen that didn't look artificial. His lips stayed a color similar to what I was used to, but instead of light orange they shifted to a pale peach color, irritated by how much he bites the flesh. I really would have preferred not to stare, but I couldn't tear my gaze away.

It was.. captivating.. and gave me an odd assortment of emotions that I have only experienced when watching the bunny scene in Con Air or upon viewing Liv Tyler in general.

The way the colors seemed to spring to life.. It seemed so very unrealistic, but the warm buzz of revitalized skin under my palms made him so tangible. And the heartbeat... when I had singled in on the subtle sound, at first I had not been able to differentiate the gentle flutter from my own thunderous boom, but when I looked at him again...

And saw his face light up in a smile brighter than the moonlight that shone through my window...

I sighed, walking back open to the door and sticking my head back inside the room.

"Dave... get up, you can come too if you like. You can't stop me, but you can at least know what's going on. I hate it when I'm out of the loop on things, so I'll help you out! As a friend!"

Strider looked absolutely shocked for a moment, dark eyebrows raising up behind his bangs before they fell to their normal position beneath the brim of his shades, and masked his emotions once more.

"Sure, I'm up for that. There's just one problem Egbert. I can't really leave this shitty nerd den."

Nerd den..? I pretended not to be too offended by that slander, brushing off the insult and stepping back into the room.

"It's easy, Dave. Just walk out! Here, if it makes the widdle baby feel safe then he can hold mommy's hand!" My goal was to catch him off guard, and in a way it worked.

His nose crinkled up a bit, the smooth freckled skin wrinkling as he scoffed at me. Grumbling under his breath, the blonde hovered into a standing position, gliding swiftly to where I waited.

"I'm so scared Ma, let my hold onto your pinky like a helpless infant," he said monotonously, eyebrow perpetually arched over reflecting glasses.

He reached out his hand in a sarcastic manner, and even though it has happened before, the sensation of making contact still shocked us both. I felt subtle waves of heat traverse throughout the nerves in my arm, making my spine feel warm and tingly. Dave's grip tightened subtly, barely enough for me to notice, let alone comment on. I stepped through the threshold, standing on the other side of the doorway and waiting patiently for my ghostly friend.

He just stood there, not knowing what to do.

"Come on, Dave. What's wrong?" I inquired, tilting my head to the side and puffing out my cheek in mock annoyance.

He just shook his head, dismissing both my questions and  his own inner thoughts. He lifted a sock clad foot and stepped through.

Nothing happened. He literally just walked through the doorway. No pain, no screaming, nothing eventful at all. But apparently, the simple action was enough to make him giddy, seen as that he actually risked a little smile.

"Cool. Let go of my hand now, you feel all sweaty and gross."

I glanced down at our hands, a bit embarrassed to see that somewhere along the way in our two step journey I had managed to firmly grip Dave's wrist. His skin was really soft...

I snapped myself out of that particular mental process, clearing my throat awkwardly and shoving my hands in my pajama pockets, walking down the hall to my dad's room.

When we stopped at the door, I turned back to glance at Dave, happily nothing that his hand still flickered in and out of realistic color, despite the fact that we had broken our contact. I felt a small flicker or emotion in my chest, but had no real clue as to what it was.

I eliminated all answer choices except for C, which happened to be hope.

I felt hopeful, that Dave would gain some sustenance over time, and I was hopeful that he wasn't really dead.

'His spirit was just lagging', as Rose once told me.

Dave cleared his throat in an abrupt, to the point manner, nudging his head to the door and frowning in a tight lipped manner. A bit flustered, I turned and knocked on the door.

"Really John? You just wasted a good thirty seconds of your life knocking out the Ghostbusters theme song. Congratulations, you've risen on the echeladder to 'Unreal Heir'!"

His sarcasm really wasn't necessary, and I told him that, only for my Dad to chuckle in his usual fatherly manner and invite me inside his room.

But I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for that at all.

Since part of my brain seemed to sort of.. shut down at the prospect of viewing my father's personal quarters, I asked him if he could join me in the kitchen for a quick snack. He told me that the idea was 'the bee's knees' (which Dave instantly made fun of), and then asked for a moment so that he could locate his house slippers.

I told him I'd be down in the kitchen with a slice of cake, and I heard his chuckles grow faint as I descended the stairs. Dave followed me so silently that after a moment I had almost forgotten about him, nearly dousing him with fresh milk when he spoke behind me.

"Holy shit man! You guys still have that? I left that AJ in the fridge back when I first moved in here!"

I shrugged, brushing off his amazement and taking a light sip of milk.

"I always thought it was my dad's. He said something about making applesauce cake a few weeks ago, but he never did. And I'm not too big on apple juice myself, so I didn't touch it."

Dave looked upon me as if I had set the bedroom of a small sleeping child on fire.

"Dude are you serious? I call bullshit John. AJ is as elegant and delicious as an Angel's tears! No, scratch that, must be from a demon. It's so good it's downright sinful." He said pointedly, pushing his shades further up his nose.

"More like god's piss."

"It is NOT piss, man! Too far."

I snorted, swirling my milk in the bottom of my cup as if it were a fine wine. I closed the fridge after retrieving a saran wrapped slice of cake from the desert section of the cooler, setting it up on the kitchen table and pulling out my dad's seat. I then sat down myself, and pushed out a chair for Dave, even though he didn't really need to sit. He downright refused my chivalry, favoring the air and choosing to float directly in front of where my father would be sitting.

I was about to scold him for his behavior when Dad came down the stairs, green robe affixed around his pajamas with multicolored string. In certain lights, one could even say the differently hued sections.. flashed..

I glanced down at his slippers, which were dark green and shaped like lizard feet. My dad was such an oddball sometimes... but you've got to love him. His contacts had been discarded in exchange for his plane black glasses, and to be honest I liked him better this way. He looked younger, the shade from his spectacles hiding any stress lines that marred his smooth dark skin. I mean, my father didn't really have wrinkles at all, since he had me kind of young, but the ones he did have were glossed over perfectly. He looked rejuvenated, and it made me happy to see him so relaxed.

Dad saw the cake at the head of the table and smiled brightly, large front teeth sticking out over his lip for a moment before he hid them, shambling to his chair and sitting.

"Oh, my son, how I love sweets like this!" He rambled, grabbing his favored red fork (supposedly it was a gift) and piercing through the soft cake. "Reminds me of when I was young! I used to have a... friend who..."

His face grew dark for a moment, and he sighed, setting the fork down before he could taste his carefully crafted confections.

"What exactly did you need from me, John? Couldn't you have let this poor old bloke sleep until morning?" as if it had been rehearsed, my dad yawned, arms stretching above his head and spine popping quietly.

I frowned at him while he was distracted, only to force a small smile onto my face when he looked back at me.

"Dad, do you know Ms. Lalonde?"

My dad raised an eyebrow over a jade green eye, lips pressed together tightly as he considered the question, arms falling back to his sides.

"Why yes, yes I do. Erm... aren't you and young Rose going to finally meet face to face at the start of the next school year? That's just Jim Dandy, isn't it?"

I dismissed his vain attempts at changing the subject, jutting my head towards his cake and watching as he hesitantly reached to resume his late night snack.

"Did you know she had a son?"

Dad quite audibly swallowed his mouthful of cake, voice thick when he answered me.

"Y-yes, I am well aware of that fact."

"Did you know that he died a few months ago?"

Dad blanched, dark skin getting a bit pasty. Any stress line that could have possibly occupied his face reared its head, making him look so much older than he actually was. He reached down to his robe pocket, searching for his pipe, only to realize that he had quit when I had contracted asthma at age thirteen. He wrung his hands together instead, green eyes becoming moist, and then wet and glistening.

"That's not true! You are lying, son. What did I tell you about the lying? Not very becoming of a young man, no no no..." His voice trailed off, and I noticed that his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

"Dad, Rose told me earlier today. She was really upset about it." I lied, the poker face I wore similar to that of a certain cocky ghost's.

My dad widened his eyes, rubbing his hand along his jaw to feel the light scruff there. He hadn't shaved today, apparently. He stood, pacing to the kitchen and then walking back, several odd curses flying from his mouth in a very.. in-paternal nature.

"Oh bullocks... just ram me right in the arse, will you?" He muttered to nobody in particular. "John, are you certain that Rose said it was her brother?"

"Absolutely. It was her twin brother Dave."

My dad made a little choking sound, sitting back down at the table and.. sort of imploding on himself. He reverted to childish behavior, burying his face in his arms and refusing to look at me.

"Not little Davey... noo... not poor little Davey..."

I bit down on my lower lip, pushing myself up and grabbing the house phone from the kitchen counter, gently setting it in front of my father, who had tear trails down his drying face yet would not explain his relationship with Dave any further.

He picked up the phone and was about to dial a number when a strong fist beat at out front door. I turned around abruptly, and my father awkwardly dropped the phone, wiping at his haggard face and hurriedly making his way to greet the uninvited guests. Dave was already peeking through the peep hole, seeing nothing but black.

My father walked right through the spirit, shivering at the sudden onslaught of cold and dusting his robe, announcing his presence before unlocking the door.

"Hello Mr. Engblert, you look trerriblo.. I mean terrible..!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for this chapter! The author told me to warn you for suckiness... the poor thing could barely sit without begging for an ibuprofen tablet. And if the father's reaction seemed uncharacteristic.. If you've ever recieved new like that, you'd know for sure that his mood swing was not unjust. Thank you for reading our story! Chapter two will be up shortly! ~Jay
> 
> A/N: My new tumblr for anyone who wants a fanart, a oneshot, or an Ask Dirk segment is called Ask Dirk Strider, and my name on there is DirkStriderMix. I'm happy to answer any questions regarding the story, or why I've let Jay take over my uploads. Thanks.. please comment.


	8. PLEASE READ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the real chapter eight, but a preview is added. Please read, this is absolutely crucial if you want to understand what's going on.

Oh gosh, this was originally supposed to be different... There was originally supposed to be actual content to this chapter, and I suppose there will be, in an odd sense... I'm sorry for misleading everyone with an update, for starters, and I hope you can both forgive me and continue reading to hear me out. The actual chapter will either be updated sometime later today or tomorrow, so please stick around. Kudos and comments, just to get this always ignored phrase out of the way, are not only appreciated but requested. I'd love to answer questions, but people rarely ask. And as for you RoLal, how did you find us on here? It's been forever since I've seen you around! Did you by any chance move back into town? I'd love to see your daughter again, my son really misses her.

For anyone who wants to ask a question, go to our Tumblr and ask away. I'm always checking it, and I'd love for people to keep tabs on the story. I'll try to draw a crappy fan art, but if enough people ask then I may even convince the author to draw some art. He's absolutely incredible... check out the picture of me and my son he drew on Tumblr (DirkStriderMix).

We do have legitimate names, but for all intents and purposes we will be referred to as Jake and Dirk, since it's practically who we are. If you guys haven't caught on yet, this story is based off of several events and happenings in our life. The events that seem a bit fantastical are true, but we cannot be entirely sure, since the events revolving around Dave and John were all told to us, not really experienced. In this story, I am the equivalent of Jake, the author is the equivalent of Dirk, my son is John, and Dirk's brother is Dave.

Also, to clear things up, if you have an imaginative mind, Dirk and I only got into the fandom because our dear friend RoLal told us we looked just like the Dirk/Jake pairing, sooo.... :B We practically live this shit.

Since RoLal asked so kindly, I'll explain to you what's going on. It doesn't classify as a spoiler, since I wont reveal anything of pertinence now. In fact, I'll word it in a way that will still enable you to be surprised later on.

About a year ago, Dirk got into a horrible accident, and I'm sorry to say that it was almost entirely my fault. The doctors said it would take him two years before he would start to recover, but Dirk, being impatient, decided to go to Philadelphia for surgery. I backed him up on this entirely, but stayed home to watch over our children. Yes guys, we have kids that are basically John and Dave, and I even named my son this before the comic even came out. We aren't old though! If that's what people think! Both children and their separated twin (oh gosh this is getting worse) were accidents. Happy accidents! But accidents nonetheless, so we had them rather young.

Unfortunately, after the surgery was done the doctors called me and informed me that it did not work, and that they probably just managed to screw everything up more. The slight feeling Dirk had regained in his left leg is now entirely gone, and he is in constant pain.

He has been, as odd as this may seem, stress writing, ever since he woke up. I packed up our computers and his art books and the kids we got custody of (only John and Dave, unfortunately. RoLal, you must bring Rose over to visit immediately, and give me your new cell phone number :B).

He's got many chapter's ready, and I really think that you all will enjoy the next chapter greatly! It's actually from my point of view, would you believe it?? But while he has them ready, he is in a really awful state of mind and I have to take care of him, be there for him. He's going to be a bit odd for a few weeks, so I'm sorry if the chapters get a bit grim. In the original there were a lot of emotions that were glanced over in respect to those with triggers, but this time around I'm pretty sure he went all out on describing what that piece of shit did to his little brother.

I'll let you guys see for yourself later, and I hope to Betsy that you read through all of this.

It may not seem like it now, but all of this junk is actually really important for you to know.

And once again, please check out my tumblr. It's a lot easier to explain things on there, and if everyone who reads this were to ask a question on there, I wouldn't need to waste a whole chapter of your time on our stupid problems. But once again, our life is this story, so ask away.

More will be explained in next chapter's notes, and especially on tumblr. Thanks!

~Jake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and visit our Tumblr. If people would actually take a few minutes to do this, the story would be read a lot more. Thanks in advanced. :B


	9. Locked Doors and Mixed Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story speaks for itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Updates should now be back to normal, and hopefully they will be updated more frequently now... Jake will no longer be doing the authors notes, but if you guys want to know more from him, he will happily answer you on our tumblr (DirkStriderMix). The same thing goes for John and Dave, who have never appeared in the authors notes, but will eventually make an appearance for the... I guess the first sex scene, which will be in a few chapters. (I don't really want to write a sex scene between my little bro and my boyfriend's son, so I'll let Dave handle it!). The surgery went exceptionally well, better than we initially thought it was going, and I can go home to Washington now! Jakey actually came up with our kids and I was considering sticking around in Philly for some sightseeing. Are there even sights here..? If anyone is willing to check out our tumblr, I'd love to get input. Comments are appreciated and begged for as well! Also! Thank you everyone who has read this so far! It never really settled in how much of you guys actually enjoyed this fic! Thank you so much guys!

**Chapter 9 : Chapter 7...?** _Locked Doors and Mixed Emotions_

 

My broken sobs caught in my throat as I looked upon her, and I crinkled my nose, awkwardly attempting to ease my glasses further up the bridge without looking too ridiculous. I blinked away the immature tears that glazed over my jade irises, brow furrowing as my gaze lingered somewhere between her onyx lip and her crystalline pink eyes.

"R-Roxy.." I began, my voice sounding so pathetically broken with my first utterance that it scared me away from completing my thought.

Something about my sorrow seemed to sober the blonde up a bit, and she let out a sigh, stepping into my home and setting her purse upon the couch, right in the lap of the plush harlequin I had bought John as a gag gift. A shorter blonde girl, one I recognized as Roxy's daughter Rose, stepped inside with near silent feet, eyeing past me with a black painted smirk and waving the fingers of her hand in greeting.

I glanced back towards the divider that separated the kitchen from the living room and saw the girl approach my son, mouth moving animatedly in what I assumed to be an official greeting.

The poor kids probably don't even remember each other... And my assumption was proven correct when John smiled toothily, mouth lopsided as he pulled Rose in for a tight hug.

I let my gaze wander back to Roxy, who sat with her legs crossed over one another beside the harlequin doll. I joined her after a silent moment, watching from the corner of my eye was the children escaped up to John's room to discuss whatever pressing issues were eating away at their minds.

Speaking of pressing issues..

"Jake, I'm so sorry you had to figure out like that..." Roxy said quietly, the presence of alcohol in her speech dwindling to a mere afterthought. "I wish I could have told you earlier, but it's been so long since we've actually spoken.. and to be honest I actually thought you wouldn't ca-"

She cut herself off after a rather heated glare on my part, her pale brow creasing as she considered her word choice.

"It's been sixteen years, Jake. Sixteen years since you've even spoken to Dirk. How was I supposed to know you'd be this upset?"

'This upset'? So apparently the quick rub of my eyes hadn't erased the trails of my imbecilic tears. I sighed, ran a hand through hair that desperately needed a good combing, and shifted my gaze away from my missed friend.

"You know how much I care for the loon, Roxy, don't pretend otherwise. And besides, it's his child... By gosh, Roxy it's your child! At the very least I'd want to know so that I could comfort you!"

Her eyes fell down to her pale hands, to the nails that were painted to be an hombre of pink and black shades. White teeth gnawed at a dark lower lip, and I sighed for the umpteenth time.

"Jake.." As she spoke her lip trembled, almost like the wall of a damn that struggled to stop the onslaught of water behind it.

The simile was more accurate than I ever wanted it to be, and As i focused my sights purely upon my dear friend's face, I saw her crumble. A strong, beautiful woman who had done nothing but protect and strengthen her friends through the years was now showing all the damage created by the blows. She was cracking, leaking, and striped of mascara bled down from pink eyes.

I hugged her, strong arms wrapped around her shaking frame, holding her close as silent tears turned into quiet sobs, shaky breathing amplifying her sorrow.

"I.. I had J-Janey, it's alright..." She said, although her words were betrayed by the way she melted into my warm embrace.

The mention of our mutual friend made me stiffen, and Roxy must have noticed the error in her ways, since she looked up at me with mild regret and quickly changed the subject, fishing a few Kleenex from her purse. I let go of her as she gingerly dabbed at the makeup streaks below her eyes.

"I may have had Jane, but he's had nobody. He's been shut up in that stupid aparkment, whoops, apartment, for months now, and every time I call him it goes to voice mail." Roxy said, eyes flickering towards my grim expression before she turned and glanced at the stairs, where our children had disappeared moments ago.

"He still loves you, ya know." She said, wringing the black stained Kleenex in her hands.

I nodded silently, guilt gripping at my heart with cold boney fingers. It was a feeling I tried to push down for years, sixteen to be exact. I did something horrible to that man and he was never able to move on. I was wretched... absolutely horrible in hindsight. After over a decade of trying to forget, all I was able to remember was his face when it happened... Topaz eyes that were once so trusting melting like pools of molten gold, a strong man breaking in my arms and filling himself with hatred.

Hatred for me...

Hatred for the baby that pushed me away from him.

Hatred for himself, too. Its a horrible sight, to witness somebody implode on themselves because of something you've done, and then blame themselves for everything that had happened.

"I'm taking you to see him, Jakey, whether you like it or not. It's been thirteen years since you've left Janey, and I can't bear to see you so lonely!"

She lightly hit me on the shoulder, and my ears turned red at the tips.

"What?? Roxy, you've got the wrong idea! I've no intentions to resume my relationship with Dirk!" I sputtered, only to flinch at the piercing glare she gave me.

"Jake Engrish- whoops I meant Engish... You've hurt my friends more than I can ever except. So help me I will go rouge on you if you don't comfort Dirk in his time of need!"

A swift slap to the back of the head and we were standing, her surprisingly strong grip on my wrist as she lured me up to my room.

"Which one is it Jake, we don't have all nihgt. I mean niglt. Ah fuck it, it makes sense."

The air of humor was back to her voice as she dragged me along, heeled feet making ever so subtle noises against the carpeted hallway. We passed by John's room and heard him avidly discussing an inaudible topic with Rose, and while it peeked my curiosity I had to hurry past in order to keep up with my friend's brisk pace.

There were only two rooms in the hallway by John's room, and Roxy was lucky enough to choose the room on the right, which was in fact my room, unlike the bathroom to the left. I was playfully shoved into the rather gray room, and Roxy looked upon it with mild disdain.

"Well this rooms chipper." She said sarcastically, pink eyes rolling beneath smoky lids as she took in the appearance of my room.

There were no more movie posters, no more green, no more sultry blue ladies... After I became a father I opened up a bakeshop with Jane as well as a store suited to her more prankster esc whims. With a set of twins, new house payments, and a new company to run, I had no time for ridiculous hobbies or fantastical aqua bosoms, so I illuminated reminders of such obsessions.

But in all reality.. now that all I had ownership of was the prank shop and one son, I could really decorate my new house the way I want to.

Huh....

I walked over to my closet and pushed back the sliding door, placing my hands upon my robed hips and examining the clothing choices. I heard Roxy skip up next to me, draping her arms over my shoulders and leaning heavily against my back.

"Alls you got are business shirts, Jakey! What happened to the booty short clad, green skull wearin' geek I used to love?" She teased, and I sighed, closing the sliding door and opening it from the other side.

"Well all I have on me right now is my vacation clothes from my honey moon. So unless you want me to- Oh jiminy, you want me to don my vacation-wear, don't you?"

I didn't even have to turn my head to know that she was nodding at me, and as I reached for the clothing (it was still in its dry cleaner bag) she let go and stepped away, pacing back to my bed and sitting down on the pale gray comforter.

I joined her, setting the bag on the bed and pulling out the clothes, which consisted of a green, short sleeved button up and tan board shorts.

"There we go Jake, that's butter! Oh shit, I meant better."

She smiled up and me, and I offered a shaky smile back, taking up the clothes and eyeing her warily.

"Oh snap, do you want me to leave for a second..? Jeez Jake, we used to have sleepovas in our undies, you can't even change shirts in front of me?"

I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory, and I ended up conceding, slipping off my robe and the white undershirt beneath it.

"Wait, Jakey, leave that shirt on, we can just pretend it has the cute little skull on it."

I did as she requested, putting on the green shirt over the white one and leaving it unbuttoned as I slipped the tan shorts over my boxer briefs. Roxy's black matte lips formed a little 'o', and she clapped, praising my new (or was it old?)  attire.

"Alrihgt now get the squirts and we'll hop in my SUV." She slurred, hopping up and rushing out of the room with a grace that bordered somewhere between god and cat like.

Before I really knew what to do with myself, I heard her snatch up her purse, keys and even a bottle of booze from my top counter. I snapped myself out of whatever daze I had fallen into, rushing to John's room and politely knocking on the door.

"John, Rose, may you join us in the car? Something's come up and we have to go visit somebody..." I trailed off, nervously stretching the collar of my undershirt and shifting my slipper-clad feet.

Oh shoot, I'd have to put on my sandals or something on the way out.

"Uh, alright Dad! I'll meet you at the door. We've just got to put something.. away first?"

 my son called through the door nervously.

"Uh, yes! We are simply packing away the many trinkets John has in his magic chest." Rose added on, and before my curiosity got the better of me, I was summoned by an unnecessarily excited Roxy.

"JaaaaAAAAkeeeEEEEy~! Come on, slow poke!" She jingled her keys as if I were a puppy attracted to the noise.

I wasn't going downstairs because of the jingle, I swear to goodness.

I slipped on the emergency sandals I kept by the front door, slapping them against the floor to get rid of some of the sand that had collected from the past few beach trips. As soon as Roxy opened up my door, the children joined up, hurriedly whispering to one other as my son glanced back at the stairs.

We all filed out of the house and Joined Roxy in her car, which was all white save for the pink cat head decal on the hood.

Based on the fact that the blonde woman was currently taking a large swig from a nice aged bottle of my finest wine, I took the driver's seat, readjusting the position of the chair, mirrors, and lights to fit my height and build.

Roxy took the passenger seat, and the children sat in the back on either side of the cup holder, Rose to my left and John to my right when I turned back to look at them. John gently pushed the cup holder back into the backrest of the seat, then shuddering as if a spark had traveled up his spine.

I shifted the car into gear as soon as the last passenger was buckled in, and we were off.

Through the dark streets.. golden hues from lamp posts illuminating roads that were moist from summer humidity. A few minutes passed, and I glanced into the rearview mirror, only to find that it was too dark to see the kids.

I sighed, turned on the music.

Taylor swift... Taylor swift... Taylor swift...

I turned the music back off and made a right turn where Roxy told me to, the car now headed towards the downtown area.

Things were too tedious to take note of..

Music back on, and we enjoyed the mellow, dulcet tones of Brandon Urie for a while, until Maroon five raided the airwaves and we listened to a repetition of Maps and Sugar on all different radio stations.

When I reached the downtown residential area, with its towering skyscrapers and intimidatingly neon corner stores, Roxy got sick of the musical tedium and lowered it to near silence.

"He's right up there, the really tall building that looks like its givin the tiny one a side hyug. I mean hug..."

She pointed a decorated finger at the window, towards a tall building with a handful of lit up rooms visible from ground level. I followed her line of sight just long enough to get an idea as to where I was going, then looking back at the street signs that glowed neon green even with how subtle the street lights shone.

I found a parking lot and slowed the SUV to a stop there, shifting into park in the first available spot and removing the keys from the ignition. Roxy opened her door and the light switched on long enough for me to see the children via the rearview mirror.

John was talking quietly, his hand pawing at the space between him and Rose as she glanced at him with mild disbelief lacing her frown. I wonder what he was talking about...

Roxy startled me by rapping her knuckles against the window, smirking in the dim light and opening the door for me with mock chivalry. I stepped out and thanked her, offering her back her keys before I moved to open the door for her daughter. What? I was being a gentleman, not trying to one up my dear friend.

Rose thanked me, dark lips pulled up at the corners in an odd little smirk. I saw my son open up the door and stare into the now empty car, almost as if waiting.

"Are you alright son?" I inquired, arching an eyebrow over jade eyes and moving a hand up to secure my glasses' perch upon the bridge of my nose.

"Huh..? Oh, yeah I'm fine."

It was total bullocks, but I didn't have time to question my son's antics at this moment. I had a long lost friend to reunite with, and it certainly wasn't going to be easy.

We all walked to the massive apartment complex, entering via the simple little lobby and coming to a stop before a young receptionist.

"Hello, how might I be of assistance today?" She said in an accent I couldn't quite recognize, glancing over our group with eyes similarly colored to mine.

Her caramel face was framed with short black hair, which wisped up in the back and sides. Her eyelids were smoky and alluring, perfected, almost as if done professionally. Her black painted lips quirked into a slight smile as her gaze fell upon Rose, who took the eye contact as a sort of challenge.

"We're looking for a resident by the name of Dirk Strider. Is there any chance you could let us see him?" Rose spoke, a matching smirk on her face and a raised eyebrow to boot.

There was a short silence, and then the receptionist smiled at us, typing a few short phrases into her computer and then reading off the room and floor number to us, more specifically Rose. The blonde girl thanked the receptionist, and asked her name in a smooth, calm voice. I searched around her desk and found that there was no source for me to find out on my own, not even a business card or name plank.

The receptionist stood and studied Rose for a moment, before she mocked a little sigh and stated her name.

"Kanaya. Kanaya Maryam. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I look forward to seeing you again on your way out. May I have your name as well? I erm.. need one to represent the visiting party."

Rose chuckled, a hand rising up to her lavender tank-top clad chest as she completed introductions.

"My name is Rose Lalonde, and the urge to stay and flirt more is almost overwhelming, but we must go up to our friend now. Thank you, Kanaya!"

I didn't remember Rose ever being this bold. It was rather impressive, and shocked me into an awestruck silence on the way up to the top floor of the building. Who even lived on the top floor? It seemed insane to me, but then again I didn't fancy the prospect of opening a window for fresh air and then falling to my death.

The elevator was slow and old, playing aged hits from the sixties despite how the building was only finished a decade ago. Just as I began to regret my decision not to take the stairs, the doors opened, and we stepped out into the hallway.

There were, in total, only five occupants on each floor. On this level, one of the rooms was smaller than the others, only because the occupant was also granted access to the roof. It was this room that we were looking for, room number 150.

It was only when I stepped in front of the door that pleasant memories of this apartment flooded back to me. I remembered when the whole lot of us would join up for pizza here, and there was always a puppet with a key on its bulbous nose sitting on the welcome mat. Sometimes however, when we surprised Dirk with a visit, he'd have the key under the mat instead.

The more we stood here remembering, the more the actuality of the area seemed to differ. IT was almost a bit... Creepy...

The key was no longer under the welcome mat, Roxy and I soon found out, as our search for a way in led to frustration and worry. The older Lalonde called out to our friend, knocking upon his door with pale knuckles and trying to listen through the thick wooden doors. My son stood behind me, oddly quiet and turned away from us, staring at the opposite end of the hallway.

There was nothing that I could see by the elevator, save for the occasional flickering light. It really did seem grim here.. I desperately wanted to get inside Dirk's apartment, and fast.

I jiggled the handle, brow furrowing and shading already dark skin. I pushed my glassed further up my nose and braced myself, about to break down the door out of worry. I had no need for this useless tomfoolery, however, for the door was promptly unlocked and opened.

Jade eyes fell upon the pale man in the doorway, taking in his fluffy blonde locks and his multitude of freckles. His shades were secured to his face, and when he saw me in the doorway he stiffened, muscles tensing and eyebrows disappearing beneath triangular lenses as he glared.

I ventured forth, smiling at him as sweetly as I could manage, my own heart still throbbing dully with grief for a child that I had rejected.

"Hello, Dirk old chap! It's erm... quite the pleasure to see you again..?"

The door was promptly closed in my face, Ms. Lalonde letting out a little snort of amusement despite the dire circumstances of the visit.

I sighed heavily and rubbed at my temple, knocking again.

"Dirk, please let us in! I know your probably still angry.. but It's better to talk now then never!" I reasoned, voice a bit higher in pitch than I would have liked.

"Come one Dirky-wirky, my little beef jerky! He means well, I sware it. Swear it. You know what I mean!" Roxy called out, rubbing her smooth hands against the door in rhythmic motions.

There was a soft sigh, and the door was opened once again, the blonde begrudgingly holding the door open for all three of us as we made our way into his house.

The place was.. well... an organized chaos, I suppose. Everything was a wreck, but set in such a way that It looked purposeful. On the couch were boxes of knick knacks and records and jars of odd substances that provided little room for sitting. In front of the television were at least ten high stacks of games and movies, and in a small army behind those were smuppets, so many smuppets that there was no place to put your foot down in the entire living room area.

"What are you doing here?" Dirk said curtly, voice as void of emotion as ever, but his twitching hands and shiny cheeks betrayed him.

He must have been crying before we got here...

It was a realization that hit me hard, rooted me to the ground but hurled out all of my securities at the same time. It was a brutal reminder of why we were here, why we were comforting Dirk in the first place, why we-

"You don't show up for any of the birthdays or Christmases or even fucking Easters, but you think it's a great time to introduce yourself to his life AFTER he's fucking dead??"

There we go, there's the emotions I was worried about. I couldn't help but flinch at his words, but instead of retaliating I just let myself feel the blows. He was right, after all. This was a pretty worthless move on my part.

I watched him move to the kitchen, where he opened the fridge only to get a sword hilt smash into his foot. He cursed loudly, threw the hilt back inside and slammed the fridge door, settling for a poptart from the cabinet instead.

"Do you want a fucking poptart?" He asked bitterly, holding put the shiny packaged pastry towards me.

I wasn't that hungry, to be honest, but I took the food anyways, opening it up as Dirk stared and handing Roxy one of the tarts.

"I'm guessing you want to know how he died or some shit? Get the whole idea of how he came to his end before you even ask about who he was as a person?"

I didn't answer, but he didn't give me the chance too.

"Fine, follow me. Don't touch his shit though, or I'll cut off your grimy little hands."

I swallowed thickly, and was going to take a step towards the blonde when my son pushed right past me.

Dirk frowned at John for a moment, before his gaze softened and he pat his fluffy black hair.

"And I'd guess that you're John, am I right?"

"Yes.. So you're Dave's older brother?"

Well.. that was a bit more blunt than I would have expected from my son.

"Which one is his room, If you don't mind me asking?"

Dirk looked dumbfounded, lip twitching down into a frown before he nudged his thumb at the door behind him, which was covered with oddly drawn comics and stickers of old records.

John thanked Dirk briefly before opening the door and pushing his way in. Roxy, Rose and I followed, Dirk looming in the doorway.

The room was... Let's just say that the police don't tidy up the crime scene for you, and Dirk most certainly did not hire a cleaning service. The smell of old blood was evident in the air, and my nose crinkled in mild disgust. The window was shattered, glass glittering on the floor like water droplets, barely illuminated by the light from within the house and the moonlight streaming in from the sky.

I hesitantly approached the bed, which was disheveled to say the least. Severed ropes clung to the headboard, dried red stains lining the insides of loops that seemed like they once restrained thin wrists. There were holes in the sheets, haloed with blood stains and tears or similar sizes.

There was a large stain on the floor where somebody must have fallen, and a small drag line to the window. I stepped over the glass shards, cautious of my sandals, and looked out the window, only to see another crimson splat of blood on the roof of a shorter building a story down.

So he was murdered. Dirk's little brother.. Roxy's darling son.. was murdered before he could even really live.

I felt anger flare in my heart, only to be extinguished by a growing sorrow.

This could have been avoided..

My son looked up at me with curiosity blazing in bright blue eyes, and when he turned to address Dirk, I knew everything would go to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! Sorry for the cliffhanger there, but I promise it'll be updated soon! I also apologize for how shitty this chapter ended up even after so long.


	10. A Fondness for Dead Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read it and find out, yo. And check us out on Tumblr cause me and John are bored: DirkStriderMix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long time between updates, Dirk and Jake got engaged so I've had to pressure Dirk into actually writing.  
> -Dave

**Chapter 10 : Chapter 8...?** _A Fondness for Dead Things_

 

I just knew he was going to fuck something up. The trickster gleam in his sapphire eyes was enough to set off every red flag in my mind.

I reached out to stop him, blonde brow furrowing  in mild frustration, only to dissolve into slight disappointment when he avoided my translucent grasp.

"John, don't you dare say anything that will hurt him," I said, an edge of warning in my voice.

I knew full well that my brother was a strong man. He could take the brunt of anything if he could protect his family, but with me, his only family gone.. I couldn't tell whether or not he was on the verge of breaking.

I watched John almost skip to my brother, nose pointed up as he glanced at him, a smirk pulling at dark lips. My brother took a step back, further from the threshold of my room than he had been prior.

"So he's dead? Gone? Never coming back?" John questioned, and Darted through the air to him, moving to slap a hand over his mouth but just managing to pass straight through.

"Yes he's gone." My brother answered smoothly, eyes hidden by triangular shades.

He sounded alright enough, but I could hear a thickness in his throat that told me otherwise.

"You sure?"

"What type of game are you playing here?" Dirk questioned, lip twitching downwards into an upset scowl.

"I'm not playing a game, Mr. Strider, I'm just asking questions. Do you believe in ghosts?"

Bro glanced towards Roxy with an odd look on his face, slightly exasperated and on the brink of sorrow.

"This isn't fucking Ghostbusters, kid." Before he could even finish the statement he glanced up at Roxy again, then at Jake, his brows disappearing beneath the lenses of his shades as he glared.

John's dad looked sheepish for a moment, dark skin flushing the slightest of reds before he fussed with his rolled up sleeve, moving closer to pull his son away. He managed to grab John's arm, pulling him straight through my torso and away from my brother. John just pulled his arm away and nearly twirled towards Rose, who arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him, black painted lips drawn into a thin line.

John held his hands in front of himself, keeping everyone at arm's length. After a moment he smiled, large toothed grin only getting wider as he held his hands up in mock surrender.

"Did you even see the body?" He questioned, and I was going to rush over and shut him up when my brother actually answered.

"No. But I don't have to see my little brother's corpse to know that some bastard stabbed him through!"

What? I was stabbed? I glanced around the room, the area that I had dismissed for the sake of happy memories flooding to my eyes with more disturbing imagery. Memories came flooding through my brain like pictures slapping past in an animators flip book.

But I didn't want to remember. That wide grin... a golden crowned tooth glinted with the pale light of my desk lamp.. Steel slicing through my skin like hot fire, bleeding... falling...

I did not want to remember, so I made myself forget. Denial is the first stage of grief, right?

So I stomped my foot down on a floor I couldn't even touch, baring straight white teeth and almost snarling at everyone in the room, even though nobody could see it but John.

"You son of a bitch, you don't even know for sure! I'm not dead, I'm just fine! I'm right fucking here!" I growled, voice raising to a yell at the end.

I had been keeping cool, staying calm my entire fucking life, and I wasn't going to let anyone push me around without getting a chance to fight.

I wasn't dead, that much I had found out. I had found out by how John and I had touched... the electric pulses lighting my skin up and filling me with a warmth that had almost become foreign.

Dead people shouldn't be able to feel shit, let alone have companionship and dare I say friendship from somebody who could both verbally and physically interact with you.

I had my doubts, but who was I without a little hope?

I let myself calm down, taking a few deep breaths before adjusting my shades, pushing them back up the bridge of my nose with a forefinger and thumb.

I would just have to show them that I was here, but I wasn't really sure how to go about doing that.

As John continued to make an ass of himself, which was sort of odd for him I might add, I padded through the air to the shattered remnants of the window, white light from the moon flooding in through the disheveled blinds and shining off of the small shards.

I went to pick up one of the longer fragments, only to have my hand pass through into the stained carpet below. I bit my lip, trying to concentrate, trying to remember the circumstances in which John and I were actually able to come into contact.

Well... I had let him do it. I had opened up my heart and my mind and I had let him in, not just on.

So I hovered my hand over the shard of glass, closing my eyes and pretending like I was grabbing it, pale, slender fingers wrapping around material that was more transparent then I was.

And it happened. I could feel the weight of an object in my hand, and when I opened my eyes I  could see the glinting glass sitting in my palm. To test further, I crushed my hand around the sharp edges, only to find that I could not bleed. It didn't even hurt either, to be honest, It just felt like an uncomfortable pressure. A smirk gracing my lips, I stood up straight, floating to where John had begun to sport a slight bashful and remorseful expression. Heh.. it was good he was beginning to get back into character, at least.

I looked up at the ceiling fan, seeing the dust that had begun to collect on the wind blades and raising myself up to it, blowing the dust out so that it invaded the innocent noses below. John sneezed as I peered into the light bulb, and after poking it a few times with a moderately long fingernail it turned on, much to my ghostly pleasure.

Everyone looked up at the light, and then back at John with narrowed eyes, almost as if they believed he had set up some elaborate prank. Sad people were kind of fucking stupid, so sorry to have to say it.

As soon as their attention was lured back to the golden light in the center of the ceiling, I curled my free hand into a fist, rearing back and then smashing the light bulb with a surprising amount of paranormal strength.

John's dad jumped, a shrill yelp escaping his mouth as he grabbed onto the nearest person, who happened to be Dirk.

I watched the shades on my brother's face slip down his nose, loquat eyes bloodshot from tears albeit softened with memories he had never told me about. I saw his hands hover over Jake's back, almost embracing him, until he came back into his senses and frowned, gently pushing against his shoulders until they were out of reach from one another.

"Watch out for the glass kids," Bro said with an air of disinterest in his voice, as he closed his eyes and removed his shades, rubbing smudged lenses against his black tank top.

It was like he didn't even care.. Honestly, I tried to stay calm but it almost seemed like the chance of me being here didn't affect him whatsoever. He was being stoic, passive, and I so desperately wanted to see him feel... something!

So I dropped down to the carpet and kneeled there under the last of the minuscule sparks, stabbing the sharp glass into the fading ground a carving, tearing tightly woven fibers and peeling back the floor with the flat edge as leverage. Roxy squealed, her slightly intoxicated state amplifying the 'fear'. Jake was barking at somebody like a wild dog, and only after I finished my carving did I notice that he was blaming John for something he obviously didn't do.

I sighed, took a step back, and let the people in the room admire my handy work.

_IM HERE_

It was short and simple, but it was enough to shatter any semblance of peach in the entire apartment.

"..."

 Bro looked down at the carpet, let out a little sign, and promptly put his glasses back onto his face.

"Jake." He said, lips turning pale with how roughly he mashed them together.

Jake froze, turning from where he had been gently scolding his son and staring at Dirk behind thick framed glasses.

"Get out of my apartment. I think you've all done enough."

And that's when John pirouetted right of the handle.

"But I'm telling you, Dave isn't dead! I bet you that you've never seen the body! I bet you the funeral was a closed casket!" He yelled, blue eyes flashing as he tried to get somebody, anybody, to acknowledge his claims.

From the corner of my eye I saw my sister widen hers.

Jake sighed loudly and went to snatch up John, but before he could make contact, Rose grabbed Johns hand and pulled him out of the room, darting towards the exit.

I zoomed after them, dropping the piece of glass and throwing myself after them, passing through my brother, my mother, and Jake as they tried to stop their kids.

We made it to the elevator, and Rose desperately smashed the first floor button, crossing the fingers on her free hand as Jake made a mad dash toward us.

"John Egbert you come out here right now or I will be VERY upset with you! WAIT-"

And the elevator door shut, Rose backing up against the elder support rail and brushing her pale bangs back with her hands, releasing John from her grip in the process.

"Rose! What did we just do, we're going to get into so much trou-"

My sister hushed John before he could freak out further, pressing a finger to his dark lips and sighing.

"I know you have my brother, John. There's no way we're going to save him if our parents try to hide us away."

I widened my eyes, letting my feet hit the elevator floor, and feeling that oh so familiar stomach flopping gravity affect that downward moving objects had on a person.

The elevator ride was agonizingly long... but maybe that was just because we were all anxious?

Rose tapped her sneakered foot against the ground, John tapped his fingers against the support rail, and I tried to make conversation with a boy that was ignoring me and a sister that couldn't even see me.

When the doors finally opened, Rose grabbed John's hand once more, darting out to the receptionist's desk and pulling the bespectacled boy along with her. I kept up easily, watching the girl behind the desk widen her Jade eyes when she saw a panting Lalonde leaning over the desktop.

What was her name again..?

"I apologize for this current display but I need to ask a favor of you, Kanaya," Rose prompted, voice smooth despite her breathlessness.

"What do you need?" Kanaya inquired, adjusting the various personal items on her desk.

"I need to hide under your desk. Please, if you see the adults that accompanied us earlier, do not tell them where we are. For all they know we 'already took off' alright..? They're going to get in their car and when they do that, tell us. That's when we'll make our escape."

Kanaya studied Rose for a moment, onyx painted lips pursing as she considered the idea.

"Alright... but the desk is rather small under there so don't squirm if your squished at all."

She pushed back her rolling chair just as the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs on the opposite side of the lobby. Rose crawled under the desk, followed by John, and just for the hell of it I fit myself down there as well.

Kanaya rolled her chair back up to the desk just as the adults reached the lobby, the sound of Jake's sandals slapping against the wood loud enough to alert anyone in the general area. I shoved my head through the desk, watching them as they ran over from the stairwell.

Jake was pulling along Dirk, dark hand grabbing his in a sort of one-sided manner. While Jake looked extremely concerned and borderline afraid , Dirk looked like he would rather be anywhere else, still clad in his plaid pajama bottoms and house slippers. Roxy made her way over as quickly as she could with her heels, and after bending over to adjust the straps on them she was able to pull in front of Jake easily.

They all rushed up to the front desk, a bit out of breath but nonetheless collected.

"H-Have you by any chance seen a pair of children gallivanting around? There is a boy with black hair and blue eyes, big glasses like these-" He grabbed the arm of his glasses and shook them around his face as an odd sort of example before continuing. "-and there is a young lady with short blond hair, lavender eyes, and black lipstick"

He looked towards Roxy, as if seeking a better description, but she did not provide one, since the one he provided had already seemed accurate.

"Hmm.." Kanaya sounded like she was in thought, and I would have wanted to see her acting, but I was currently staring into the crotch of a certain Dad Egbert as he leaned against the desk to catch his breath some more.

"I'm pretty sure they passed through a minute or two ago, to be honest with you. They asked me where the nearest, cheapest hotel is, and as far as I'm concerned that's the Sunny Hills Inn a few blocks down."

The adults backed away, nodding and whispering game plan to each other in a way that vaguely mocked huddling football players. Dirk pulled away with a peeved look on his face, trying to pry his thin arm out of Jake's grip. The man was relentless though, and only acted as if he hadn't noticed the struggle.

Roxy spoke up and thanked Kanaya, before she grabbed Jake's free hand and led them in one of those kindergarten chain lines.

We watched them dart through the doors, caravanning to Roxy's pink accented car and hopping in one by one until they got situated and sped off.

When they left my line of sight I stood, pushing myself up into the air and hugging a knee to my chest lazily.

When Kanaya and I gave the green light, we gave it in unison.

"Coast is clear, you can come out now."


	11. Taco Bell, Ghosts, and Ice Cream Cones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read it, this chapter is totally worth the surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it guys.. The chemistry is kinda intense but this is how it happened, so yeah. btw I'm "Dave", Bro is getting wedding plans in order so I'm taking over the fanfic for a while, just like I took over the tumblr. We're DirkStriderMix btw

**Chapter 11 : Chapter 9...?** _Taco Bell, Ghosts, and Ice-cream Cones_

 

Kanaya certainly had a taste for fine linen. From where I crouched beneath her desk I could see the bold red cotton voile draping over her desk chair. It was longer in the back then it was in the front, and her dark tanned legs crossed elegantly over one another.

Rose was trapped right in front of her during her whole conversation with our parents, her body almost touching Kanaya's.

And to be honest... I'm pretty sure Rose was into it. Her cheeks were dusted a pale pink, and I snickered, covering my mouth when Rose shot me an icy glare.

Listen to my father freak out was a bit unnerving to me, and I felt a bit guilty, but every kid's got to have at least one rebellious stage, right? When I heard them scamper off I was relieved beyond belief, a sigh escaping me as Dave and Kanaya informed us they had officially left.

I easily slipped out from under the desk once Dave called for me, dusting off my shorts in a habitual manner and running a hand through my fluffed up hair.

Rose followed suit, yet with slightly less grace than even I had. Her hair was just a tad bit disheveled, and she used Kanaya's thighs as support as she pushed her own petite frame up. The darker haired girl just smiled, slyly running a hand through thick black tresses as Rose tried to smooth out her hair.

"Thank you Kanaya." She said simple, voice smooth but a blush slowly traversing from her ears to her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and swallowed thickly, the blush seeming to retreat just a tad.

"You're welcome Miss Rose.. You can go running off now, but I'd like to see you around again soon."

I smirked at the two, enjoying their rather obvious connection. I slipped around the bend of the desk and slunk my way over to Dave, who was glancing at the rather amorous exchange with his eyebrow raised to an almost comical height.

"I totally called it, dude. Dirk said I was coming to conclusions but I knew. I've known for years.."" He said, a grin creeping onto his face and pushing the top of freckled cheeks beneath large gray lenses.

I didn't really know for sure what he was rambling on, but the smile on his face made me feel warm inside. He looked better with a smile on his face, screw those dumb little smirks.

He seemed to notice my lingering stare, and it was only then when I too took note of it. I glanced away, a bit flustered by the awkward situation but not embarrassed enough to blush.

Teeth were hidden away again as his smile dissolved, forming that loose smirk I had so desperately wanted to stay off. He took a step towards me and laughed, feet tapping lightly on the ground as his sneakers hit the redwood flooring.

I focused in on that singular sound, all other noise blurring until it was inaudible, my head turning to watch him as he strolled away from me, skin pale white and hair a lightened blonde. He looked so real... so tangible.. I turned on my heel and sprung forward, my fingers outstretched, reaching, wanting so badly just to touch h-

The sound of Rose's sultry farewell to her exotic new love interest seemed to snap both Dave and I out of whatever phase we had been in. The blonde flickered, like a flame being harassed by a single breath, making the orange hues dance amongst the wind until it went out in a wisp of smoke.

Dave didn't fade entirely though, billowing up into the sky like rising carbon but staying in one piece. He floated over me like an obedient helium balloon, affixed by a singular string. I felt my fists clench self consciously, not wanting to bare my palms and let him go.

Rose took long steps to pass us, long pink skirt moving like waves around her smooth pale legs.

"Alright boys, where shall we hide away? Any of you have any money on your person?" She inquired, pushing the door open and holding it for me as I led Dave out into the open.

I tied Dave's red string to my heart, so that he wouldn't float away even if I were to open up my hands.

As Rose closed the door behind all of us, I made my way out towards the elegant benches that lined where the cobblestone path met up with the dark slate of the parking lot. The sky seemed to get a bit darker, sunlight barely even busting past the swelling black clouds.

Earth was oddly fitting in this way, our own personal Land of Light and Rain for moments both gleeful and melancholy. The sky looked as if it were at war with itself, light against darkness, darkness against light. To be honest, I wasn't sure which side I would pick, since I myself wasn't sure where my allegiances lay.

I was pulled out of my little bubbled up day dream by Dave, who was chanting something quietly in my left ear. I jumped only slightly, Prussian eyes widening before I frowned at the Creamsicle tinted boy.

"-aco Bell, Taco Bell, Taco Bell, Taco Bell, TACO BE-" I narrowed my eyes just enough to get him to shut up, internally suppressing my glee at the little smile that spread across his freckled face.

"How about Taco Bell, Rose? Didn't we see one on the drive here?" I suggested, most definitely not because Dave had wanted it.

Rose considered the idea for a moment before nodding, black lips spreading into a grin.

"That sounds pleasant, actually. And If I wasn't mistaken I could have sworn it was conjoined with an ice cream parlor? Maybe we could get some Rocky Road afterwards..."

She trailed off, absently grabbing my hand and pulling me along like a mother would her slow child. I could feel Dave's constant presence by my side, so I felt no real need to turn my head and check up on him frequently.

We used the roads as a guide while we traversed, yet stuck to the trees, wanting to be able to abscond if somebody were to catch us on the run.

We walked in relative silence, arrived at Taco Bell in relative silence, and even ordered in relative silence. Not much was said, because nothing much really needed to be said.

Rose paid for our tacos since she was the only one with an ample supply of money in her bra, handing me two bags while she herself held her own with white knuckles.

All three of us made our way outside, going straight past the cute little tables outside the ice cream parlor and instead taking refuge in the trees. Dave sat applesauce style, hovering a good inch off the ground as Rose and I situated ourselves, Dave to my left and the blonde tentacle therapist directly in front of us.

"Why three bags Rose? You get Choco Tacos or something?" I asked, large front teeth worrying at a dark lip more out of habit then any sort of anxiety.

Rose shook her head, smile turning a bit distant as she took the bag from my hands, pulling out a warm, wrapped hard shell taco.

"No, sorry John. These are actually for Dave.. " She said quietly, eyes drifting off for a moment before snapping to where Dave currently hovered.

I felt him fall, his rear plopping against the grass as he took in a sharp breath, glancing at the taco as Rose held it out to him. He reached out eagerly, albeit nervously, fingers twitching ever so slightly as he grabbed the taco, his hand closing around the food and his fingers gracing over those of his sister's.

"Man Rose, you know I'm a slut for Doritos." He said, a stupid little grin plastered to his orange tinted face.

Rose's eyes widened, the light streaming down between the gaps in the tree above us, making her lavender irises gleam florescent as she studied the space Dave occupied carefully.

"Dave..? Dave is that really you?" She asked, her voice a mere whisper, barely louder than the chirping birds in neighboring trees.

Dave took the Taco, his peach tinted lips parting just slightly as he gasped, smile slipping off his face.

"You can see me? Are you joking?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.

Rose followed suit, her hands reaching out to pull her twin into an embrace, only for her limbs to fall through him. She seemed a bit disheartened, her tweezed eyebrows furrowing over troubled eyes, and Dave pushed up shades that had begun to fall from the bridge of his nose.

"Rose, wait a sec... try this.." Dave began, handing his Cool Ranch Doritos Taco to me before holding his hands out to Rose palm up.

She hesitantly set her hand upon his, at first only passing through again, before Dave took initiative and gripped her pale hands with his own.

I was met with bright color, orange draining out of his completion like water rolling off of hydrophobic material. They sparked where they touched, much like Dave and I had done when we first touched. The siblings interlaced fingers, silly matching grins erupting on their once shocked faces, expression swapped out for glee and mirth.

"I thought you were dead..." Rose nearly breathed out, obviously affected by the shocking heat Dave gave off.

"So did I.." Dave admitted, letting out an odd little chuckle and scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

I unwrapped my burrito and gnawed at it happily, pleased by the sibling reunion that was taking place right before my very eyes.

I blinked, and suddenly the two were hugging, Rose nearly crushing her brother in a strong grip, muttering incoherent phrases about how happy she was that her brother had seemingly come back to the dead.

This was a softer, more vulnerable side of Rose that I had never seen before. It sort of shocked me, vaguely scared me, but it made me happy overall, and I was glad that I had a part in making her act this way.

I closed my eyes and smiled, opening my mouth to take a large bite of my taco, only to have both mine and Dave's stolen from my hands and tucked back into the to go bags that they had came from.

"Don't eat the taco's John, we can always save them for a more appropriate time. A moment as oddly joyous as this calls for deserts of the dairy kind. What flavor would you two like? I've got the money so I'll go order some really quickly.." She said, trying to calm herself down from her energetically happy state.

It almost reminded me of somebody I used to know.. but I couldn't really place who.

We took too long to answer, apparently, so she stated that she would guess our flavor preferences and turned on her heel, striding off towards the combination taco bell and ice cream parlor, reaching into her bra to grab her money as she went.

And then there were two.

I glanced over at Dave, pursing my lips into a thin line as I watched his smile grow on his face, cheeks dusting the lightest of pinks as he reveled in a happiness that almost seemed foreign in his expression.

He caught my stare before I could look away, and instead of averting his own like he had done earlier, he met mine dead on, gray shades glinting in an unforgiving manner.

"You did this.." He said quietly, and it took me a moment to realize that he wasn't just murmuring to himself. "You're the reason I get to see Rose again. You're the reason I could leave that monotonous house and see my brother, my mom, my sister... How? How in the hell did you manage to do a thing like that, Egderp?"

His brow furrowed beneath his glasses for a moment before his features smoothed out, face happy and dare I say, awed, once more.

I merely shrugged, toying with a loose threat on my shorts and so desperately attempting to pry my gaze away from Dave's. His glasses glinted again as a light wind shifted the leaves of the tree we sat beneath, sun hitting the lenses directly and singing my corneas.

"Dave... could you take off the god awful Ben Stiller shades..?" I asked, sneaking in a subtle insult at the end of my request and then following it up with an odd, buck toothed smirk.

Dave opened his  mouth in genuine offense, before it faded into mock offense and then into acceptance.

"Sure, fuck it. But no looking at my eyes, you don't get that much special privilege, dork."

I swear, the whole world came to a stop for this moment. It was almost as if the air stopped working, the winds that had been picking up coming to a complete still, leaving us in a little bubble of peace, quiet, undivided attention.

He lifted pale hands up to his face, grabbing the arms of his sunglasses between forefingers and thumbs and gently pulling them off, pale lids slipping over mystery colored eyes as his face was revealed to me.

And... I didn't really know what to say, for it had been the most conflicting moment of my life. So I didn't say anything, I just watched, listened, acted.

He had a soft looking face, freckles dusting his cheeks from his jaw to just beneath his eyes, the most concentrated spots being directly over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His eyelashes were dark, not blonde like I had expected but dark brown, almost black. They casted light shadows against his ivory cheeks, and I could see the corner of his mouth twitch in what was almost a nervous smile and laugh.

Was he really that vulnerable, without those silly shades on?

I reached out a hand, gently brushing my thumb over his cheek in an act that wasn't controlled by my brain, but by the heart that I had so willingly tied to Dave just an hour ago.

He flinched, the poor thing, brow creasing above his nose before smoothing out. I felt him subtly tilt his head against my hand, trying to suppress his craving contact that he had lacked for longer than I could imagine.

His blonde hair rested against his forehead in a perfect swoop, covering most of his forehead with bleached tresses. Light from between the tree's leaves lit up the crown of his head, blonde hair gleaming golden.

Time was impertinent at this moment, as I was aware of nothing but Dave, and he was aware of nothing but me. I wasn't entirely sure what any of this meant... My heart was leading blindly, pulled by a string that Dave was currently yanking towards himself, almost as if he were attempting to invite me to the dance floor at a crappy middle school dance.

"John..." He said, voice trailing off as his lashes fluttered, almost as if he were going to open his eyes.

When he eventually did, they were opened so slightly that I could see no color, not even the whites of his eyes.

"John, you've got meat juices from your burrito on your face." He said smoothly, a smile gracing flushed pink lips.  

I wonder if he bit his lips too...

I processed Dave's observation, my ears heating up and turning red against the dark complexion of my face.  I glared at him, moving my hand away and going to wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand, only for Dave to grab my wrist with one of his own hands.

"Don't, I've got it.."

I glanced away, flustered by the sudden turn of events. Just leave it to Dave, to ruin a perfectly good bonding moment! Who.. Who knows what would have happened! If only he could have kept his smug little mouth closed, then maybe right now we could be-

We could be....

We could be what? What was it that my heart was telling me? Was it too tied up to let out a sound, or was I just tuning out its requests.

Dave's hand gripped my jaw, warmed than I had remembered them being but far more cold then I was.

I shivered, letting him turn my head so that I was facing him again, blush spreading across my face when I noticed how close he had gotten.

The tip of his nose grazed mine, sending electric sparks down my spine like none I had ever felt before.

He hovered his face just in front of me, tongue poking out from between those slightly swollen lips as he dragged it up my cheek. It was wet.. but not gross, If that made any sense.

His soft lips grazed the wet trail, and we both moved slowly, hesitantly, caught halfway between a bubbled up dream and a cruel reality.

Just as I was about to decide between pushing him away or giving into the possibilities of what he could do, Dave took action.

He nudged his nose against mine lightly, muttering something stupid as his lips came into contact wit my slightly chapped ones.

"We could.. totally be PepsiCola, John..."


End file.
